


By the Light of My Stars

by ladydragona



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angelology, BAMF!Crowley - Freeform, Crowley Was Raphael Before He Fell (Good Omens), Crowley and Aziraphale Knew Each Other in Heaven, Crowley is soft for kids, First Kiss, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, No Betas We Fall Like Crowley, Slow Burn, The Fall - Freeform, blatantly inaccurate bible stories, blatantly inaccurate history, tale as old as time burn as slow as fuck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2020-07-10 12:30:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 36,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19905751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladydragona/pseuds/ladydragona
Summary: Heaven was, well, heaven, until it wasn't. All Raphael ever wanted was to stay out in the stars and maybe show them to his favorite angel, but that's not what happened. He fell. He lost his chance at true happiness. All because he was a fool and a coward. Now he has to live on Earth, but as the enemy of the one angel he cares about.





	1. Before the Beginning There was Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> This will mostly be based on the TV version, because they gave us that delicious delicious backstory, but do be prepared for book specific knowledge in later chapters.
> 
> I know everyone and their mother is writing about Raphael as Crowley but I'm jumping on that train too. Sue me. This will start off pretty fluffy, but dive into angst territory really quick, so I will update tags as they are applicable.
> 
> I have no beta, so any and all typos and mistakes are solely my own fault.

Most are aware of The First War. Angel fighting angel on the heavenly battlefield. Though it was less an actual battlefield and more an amorphous pocket of the aether that both sides created by pure accident when tensions in Heaven finally boiled over. Speaking of lack of battlefields, it would also be remiss to assume this First War happened like most other wars since: two armies on clearly defined sides waiting for their superior officers to give commands. No, this war was more like a pub brawl that spiraled out of control, just with less (no) alcohol and more (all) eternal consequences.

The War hasn’t started yet, not that any of them know what war IS since it’s never happened before, but tensions have been high in Heaven and Raphael has this uncomfortable feeling that’s been slowly growing in the pit of his stomach. Something is going to Happen. He doesn’t know what that something is, but the uneasy feelings that surround him when he walks the Heavenly halls makes it that much easier for him to stay out in the cosmos and continue his work.

And he would just stay out in the stars, creating and exploring and expanding the cosmos, and never returning to Heaven. There’s just one problem.

“H-hello, Archangel Raphael. I was uh, well I got your note. You, um.. You wanted to speak to me?” The voice is familiar, if a bit nervous.

Raphael turns and grins. Taking in the sight of the Cherub before him, the one angel in all of Heaven he would willingly return from the stars for. Aziraphale.

Shorter than most other angels, plump around the middle, with short, white blonde curls atop his head, and the bluest eyes Raphael had ever seen. Aziraphale had captured Raphael's attention the moment he laid eyes on him.

Being one of the seven Archangels (technically he was a Seraphim, Archangel was just a title really), Raphael had never thought he needed a reason to approach Aziraphale but after only three or four times of just walking up to the Cherub and striking up conversation, Gabriel had pulled him aside. ‘Raphael, it is unbecoming of an Angel of your station to busy himself with the affairs of lesser Angels’.

After that, Raphael had resorted to sneaking him notes and meeting in places other angels didn’t go.

Like the, still unfinished, ‘Gates of Heaven’. Where apparently human souls would eventually be received once there were any humans to actually die. Like where he and Aziraphale were right now.

“Yeah! Not a bid deal or anything, just returned from, well you know, making stars and nebulae and such. Hadn’t seen you for a bit. Figured we could catch up, or something. If that’s alright, of course.”

The smile that breaks out across Aziraphale’s face makes Raphael’s heart soar higher than the cosmos itself.

Raphael listens to Aziraphale tell him about the drills and training that Gabriel insists they do, but he can tell Aziraphale is hesitant and more than a bit uncomfortable. So he changes the subject. Telling the Cherub all about what it’s like up in the stars. Describing his favorite creations and the processes it requires to actually make a working nebula or solar system.

“That sounds absolutely amazing! Oh, I wish I could see it.”

Raphael moves in a little closer. He’d been slowly scooting closer and closer and Aziraphale throughout their conversation. Little increments at a time as to not scare off the Cherub.

He keeps his focus on Aziraphale’s eyes. Noting the absence of any of the previous nervousness or anxiety. He takes a chance, a gamble, and wraps Aziraphale’s hands in his own. Aziraphale’s hands are smaller than his. Rounder, pudgier, warmer.

Aziraphale startles at the sudden contact, but doesn’t pull away. “Rahp-”

“I’ll take you.” He leans in closer, like sharing a secret. Face only inches from his companions. “To the stars, I mean.”

Aziraphale’s eyes flick from his eyes to their hands intertwined between them and back again. “Truly?”

He wants to lean in more. To press their faces together and gather Aziraphale in his arms. He’s never felt this before, but it feels right. Feels good. Raphael restrains himself. Aziraphale is nervous and skittish. Too much too soon could scare him off, so Raphael reels those feelings in and tucks them somewhere safely inside.

“Of course! If you’d like. I’d love to show you.”

Aziraphale’s smile and eyes drop for a moment. “I… I don’t think Gabriel would like that very much. I’m a Cherub. A soldier. The cosmos isn’t my place.”

Raphael feels something in his heart darken. “Sod Gabriel. The Almighty never said I couldn’t bring anyone with me. If you want to go, I’ll take you. After the Humans are made and settled there won’t be much use for so many of us. Don’t know why we need an army anyway, not like there’s anything TO fight….” He trails off a moment. An idea quickly forming in his mind. He continues before Aziraphale fully processes what was just said. “Actually, you know what? I think I might need some… protection. Yes, protection up there. Never know what kind of strange things could be created from the experimental mixing of elements. I’m really meant to be a healer, after all, not much fighting ability in me.”

It takes Aziraphale a moment to fully process and comprehend everything that just spilled out of Raphael’s mouth. He seems to think on it a bit, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth with his brow furrowed.

Raphael waits and takes this time to commit every inch of Aziraphale’s face to memory. It’s a long shot, he knows this. Gabriel is stubborn, and Raphael isn’t close with any of the other Archangels. It would take time, possibly buttering Gabriel up a bit, and he would have to probably convince Michael too. But if it works, he could see Aziraphale as often as he wanted, which is, to say, all the time. He could have a companion in the stars. The idea makes him positively giddy. His two most favorite things side by side: the cosmos, and the most beautiful angel he’d ever seen. He’s absolutely grinning with excitement at the prospect.

Aziraphale’s eyes flick back to his face and the grin is apparently infectious. He smiles, shyly, back at the Archangel. “Well… I mean… If you really think you need the protection up there. I suppose there really are quite enough of us down here. One less Cherub shouldn’t make that much of a difference… Right?”

Raphael shakes his head and squeezes Aziraphale’s hands. “Nah. No difference at all.”

Aziraphale beams. “Well I… I suppose I have something to look forward to, then.”

“Yes. I suppose you do.”

They stay like this for a brief moment in time. Close together and starring into each others faces. Raphael feels like he should do or say something momentous. It’s right there at the tip of his tongue but what ever it is, is eluding him.

Aziraphale glances back into the halls of Heaven then back at Raphael. “I um… I should probably go. I’m sure they will be wondering where I’ve gone off to.”

Raphael swallows thickly, mentally kicking himself for not being able to figure our what he should have said or done. “Right. Yeah. Don’t need Gabriel getting his robes all twisted.” He brings Aziraphale’s hands to his lips as a last ditch effort to express the feelings he himself doesn’t even understand. A dusting of pink rises in Aziraphale’s cheeks and Raphael feels a sudden surge of pride that HE caused such a reaction, even if he doesn’t know what the reaction means yet. “I’ll bring this up to Gabriel soon.”

Aziraphale nods quickly. “Yes. I don’t think me bringing it up would go over well.”

Raphael nods once and slowly releases Aziraphale’s hands. “I’ll see you again soon.” His voice barely above a whisper.

“I certainly hope so.” Aziraphale whispers back, the pink of his cheeks growing darker before he turns around and rushes off.

Raphael feels a chill he never knew in Heaven before sink into him as soon as Aziraphale is out of sight. He clutched his hands to his chest, the warm feeling that has been blooming there turning painful now that Aziraphale was no longer with him.

“You know they will never give him to you.”

Raphael jerks his head in the direction of the new voice. It’s smooth and deep and somewhat familiar, but no one else should have been here. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Show your self!”

A warm chuckle, then an angel is stepping out from behind a pillar on the far side of the unfinished room. “I didn’t mean to pry. I was just checking on how far along this space was when you and your… friend showed up.”

It was Samael. Tall with dark hair and darker eyes that were in direct contrast to the white of his robes. Raphael had only spoken with Samael once, when he was newly made and Michael had taken him around to be introduced to all the other Archangels before taking him to the stars. He’d heard about him though. Apparently he was intended to guide human souls to Heaven when they died.

“So you heard that then.” It’s not a question, more of a statement for himself. Samael is respected, loved. He was the first to be created and Her favorite among them. If he wanted to, he could put a stop to their plan. Raphael clenches his fists at his sides. “What do you plan to do?”

Samael smiles easily, but Raphael doesn’t think it reaches his eyes. “Do? Why, nothing, of course. I just thought I should warn you that you’ll never convince Gabriel to give up one of his little soldiers. And Michael knows better than to the think you might need protection in the cosmos. Don’t get me wrong, It’s a clever plan, but ultimately doomed to failure.”

Raphael stares at him, unblinking. “You mean you aren’t going to, you know, tell?”

“Oh Heavens no. I already know the others won’t understand, and I wouldn’t want the two of you to be forced apart.”

“Wha- What? Forced apart? Why would that happen? We aren’t doing anything… wrong? Just because Gabriel doesn’t like us ‘fraternizing’ with the lower choirs doesn’t mean I can’t.”

Samael laughs and walks a little closer, head tilted to the side just so. “Oh, little brother. You don’t realize it, do you?”

“Realize.. Realize what?”

Samael is still chuckling to himself as he approaches his fellow Archangel, stopping only once they are chest to chest. He leans forward to whisper in his ear. “You’re in love with him.”

Raphael’s breath hitches. “I love all my-”

“Oh come on. Don’t give me that!” Samael takes a few steps back. “Are you telling me you feel the same way for… Gabriel that you do for Aziraphale?”

Raphael snarls and bares his teeth. “WHAT!? Of course not! That’s… It’s...”

Samael smirks and raised his eyebrows. “Different?” He supplies.

Raphael gapes and shuffles a few steps back. “That’s… I…” He presses his hand to his chest to feel the warmth that had settled there ever since he first saw Aziraphale. Is that what I’m feeling? A different kind of love? He feels faint.

Samael places his hands on Raphael’s shoulders. “Don’t worry, little brother. I know all about these feelings you’re having. Let me explain it to you.”


	2. Tensions Mounting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate chapter title: How to Fry Your Crushes Brain in .02 Seconds, By Aziraphale

Raphael isn’t really paying any attention to where he’s going, but the arm around his shoulder keeps him moving steadily through the halls of Heaven.

He hasn’t spoken to Aziraphale since Samael approached him and he misses him. It’s an ache in his chest that’s impossible to ignore, but his older brother says it’s better to keep his distance for now. Not draw attention. It doesn’t make the ache any less real or painful.

“So. What did you think?”

Raphael bites his lip. The meeting. He’s asking about the meeting. Raphael doesn’t know why his opinion should matter. “It, well, it was… nice? I suppose. Didn’t know so many angels were… upset. Would explain the… ambient tension I guess.” Raphael waves his hands in a way that’s meant to convey the general atmosphere.

Samael nods. “Yes. I did warn you there would be a lot of us. You did well though. They like you. Not that I thought they wouldn’t, you ARE my brother, after all.”

He worries his hands in the folds of his robes. “I… I just… They sounded so… angry. I’m not a fighter, Samael. I don’t want to fight anyone.”

Samael pulls them to a stop and pushes on his shoulders till Raphael has turned to face him. His hand coming up to cup Raphael’s cheek. “They are just frustrated, Raph. I don’t want to fight either, you know that. We are family. We aren’t meant to fight each other.”

“It’s just… The things they were saying. About Michael. And Gabriel! I know he’s stubborn and a bit stuck up, but I can’t possibly imagine-”

“Shhh. Shhh. It’s alright. Don’t think about it. They didn’t mean it. They were just… letting off steam. That’s all.”

Raphael couldn’t get the sight of hundreds of angels, all angry, all ready to fight at a moments notice. There had been angels from all of the choirs there, from lofty Seraphs to lowly untitled brothers and sisters in grace, with him and Samael at the front. All of them angry at the Almighty. At least he finally knew what all the tension he’d been feeling was about. While Raphael had been away, in the stars, God had given them all memo of sorts: to love the humans she was soon to create as much and more than they loved Her. To serve them. The angels at Samael’s little ‘get together’, along with Samael himself, did not want to do that. They thought it was demeaning to be told to serve lesser beings. Beings that didn’t even have Her grace woven into their very souls like they did. They planned, when there was enough of them, to bring their grievances to God Herself. They figured She wouldn’t be able to to ignore all of them.

Raphael though it was lunacy, but Samael promised that after this, him and Aziraphale could be together.

“Yeah. Yeah, I know. Just, jarring, is all.”

Samael rubs his thumb across his cheek. “I know. It’s all right. Look at me, Raph. Come on.”

Raphael lifts his eyes to look a his brother. There is something burning there, behind his dark eyes, but Raphael can’t tell what it is and he can’t tear his eyes away.

“I know you’re… worried, Raph. I know, but you have to promise me. Promise me you won’t tell Michael and the others just yet. If they find out before we are ready, they could discourage everyone. Then none of us will be happy. This is suppose to be paradise. It can’t be that if no one is happy, can it?”

Raphael slowly shakes his head. “No. No, o-of course not. I would never. I’m sorry if, sorry if it seemed like I was going to- No I won’t well anyone. You have my word.”

Samael smiles one of his brilliant smiles. Then his eyes glance over the top of Raphael’s head and the smile turns into a bit of a smirk. “Well, well. It would seem it’s time for me to take my leave.”

Without Samael’s burning gaze, Raphael is able to glance over and instantly stops breathing.

Aziraphale. Perfect, shining, Aziraphale. Standing near a pillar in the hall. All alone.

When Raphael looks back, Samael is gone.

He takes a moment to run his fingers through wavy red hair, straighten his robes, and try to calm the frantic warmth that’s spreading through his chest again, replacing the aching pain that had been there moments before.

Raphael shakes out his hands as he approaches Aziraphale from behind. Stopping just a pace away and clearing his throat.

Aziraphale gasps and spins toward him, hands clenching at the sides of his robes. The gasp turns into a grin brighter than any star Raphael has ever seen. “Raphael!” Aziraphale closes the small gap between them, grasping Raphael’s hands in his own. “It’s so good to see you! Oh how I’ve missed you, my dear.”

Raphael feels his mouth go dry and like his tongue doesn’t want to cooperate with him. “I, er. Yes. That is. I’ve also, yeah. I missed… I missed you t-too”

Aziraphale beams even brighter. “Oh! I’m so glad I found you.”

“Found? Y-you’ve been looking for me?”

“Oh yes!” He looks down. “I haven’t seen you in a while...”

Raphael shakes his head and presses their foreheads together. Closing his eyes and basking in this feeling, this love, coursing through him. The closer he gets to Aziraphale, the closer still he wants to be. “Don’t. Don’t worry. I’m sorry I haven’t been around. It’s just… taking time, you know? To set everything up.”

He feels Aziraphale nod. “That’s quite alright, my dear. These things take time, I know.”

‘My dear’. Those two little words send Raphael soaring back into the stars. _Oh, if only he would call me his dear for the rest of existence, I would be happy._ He lifts Aziraphale's hands to his lips like he did before and lifts a silent prayer that this moment might never end. The other angels might not be able to understand, but surely, if The Almighty created him with the capacity to love like this, it couldn’t be wrong, could it?

“Raphael?”

“Hm?”

“Open your eyes.”

He does as commanded. Opening his eyes to stare into Aziraphale’s own, impossibly blue, eyes. Their faces so close, he can see every minute change in color and hue and feel Aziraphale’s warm breath on his lips. “Is something wrong?”

“No. I just love looking at your eyes. They are the most beautiful shade of gold. I don’t think I’ve seen another angel with eyes like yours.”

The warmth in his chest rises to a fever pitch and seems to crawl it’s way up his neck and onto his face. “Oh...”

“Archangel Raphael. Cherub Aziraphale.”

Raphael feels like a bucket of ice water has just been dumped over his head. He pulls away immediately, putting what he would assume is the ‘proper’ distance between him and Aziraphale. “Archangel Michael!” The sudden lack of contact with his love is dizzyingly painful, but he does note that Aziraphale murmurs a welcome.

His sister is before them. Prim, proper, aloof, Michael. Second oldest, just behind Samael. She looks over them for a moment and Raphael can’t read her face. “Aziraphale, I am certain Gabriel will be looking for you.”

“Oh! Yes. I shall take my leave then.” He nods respectfully to Michael and throws a smile at Raphael before scurrying off.

As soon as Aziraphale is no longer in sight, he opens his mouth to attempt to explain, but Michael stops him with a hand in the air.

“Have you seen Samael?”

Raphael blinks for a moment. This was not the line of conversation he had expected. “Uh… No… Not uh, not recently, that is.” At least not since he saw Aziraphale. It’s not a lie if it’s kind of true, is it?

She frowns. “I see. Well, that is….” She pauses. “Well, if you see him. Please let me know. It would seem no one has seen him for some time, and there is something I need to discuss with him.”

Raphael runs his fingers through his hair and looks down at his feet, unable to meet her eyes. “Uh, yeah. Yeah I’ll let you know.”

He is startled by the sudden hand on his shoulder and the heavy sigh that follows. “I know the atmosphere of Heaven has been… tense… as of late.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Yeah that’s why I haven’t, you know, been around much. Tension, not really my scene, you know?”

She gives an affirmative nod. “Of course. Not to worry. It will be dealt with accordingly.”

"Wha-what? Why? They aren't hurting anyone.... are they?"

The hand on his shoulder tightens to the point of being uncomfortable. "They question the will of God, Raphael. It is not our place to question her will, only to obey."

He looks into her eyes and Raphael is reminded why she is the one in charge of The Heavenly Host. Her light gray, almost silver, eyes burn with a holy fire. And for the first time since his creation, Raphael feels fear.

He barely even registers when Michael gives her goodbyes or that he even responded in kind.

He fears. He fears for Samael and what him and his followers have planned. He fears how Micheal would respond should she ever find out that he was with them. He fears for what this might mean for Heaven. But most of all, he fears for Aziraphale.

Samael had explained what Raphael’s feelings meant.

Love. In love. With another angel. Angels were made of love, of course. Expected to love everything and everyone, but this was different. He loved Aziraphale more than the other angels. He wanted to hold and be held by Aziraphale. Wanted to spend every possible moment in the rest of eternity with him. Samael said none of the other angels felt that way about anyone. That they were expected to love equally and they did.

He clutched shaking fists at his sides. The others weren’t acting in the way they were suppose to, so they would be ‘dealt with’. And he knew, just knew, if Michael found out how he felt about Aziraphale, they too would be ‘dealt with’. They would be separated. Probably forever. To keep the feelings from growing, deepening.

_‘They don’t understand.’_

_‘They will never let you keep him.’_

_‘You’ll be forced apart.’_

He knew what he had to do. He had to find Samael.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UUGGHHHH I'm not very happy with how the end of the chapter turned out, and it ended up shorter than I expected.... I know I promised angst, and IT IS COMING, I just gotta, like, set it up. I just hate the conversation with Michael and ended up rewriting it like... 4 times... I'm still not very happy with it, but I think I got across everything I intended to?
> 
> Chapter 3 is already written, and though I'm struggling with 4, it should be done by the end of today. I'm just staggering updates to give myself breathing room to work on the middle historical bits. 
> 
> Hit me up on tumblr @theladydrgn if you wanna scream about Good Omens or send questions and stuff.


	3. The First War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle is fought, and everyone loses something.

Thousands upon thousands of screaming voices raised in a cacophonous roar. The only other sounds were the furious beating of wings and an almost constant clang of metal on metal. There was no sky, or ground, or walls. There was no neatly made lines or easy identifiers of sides.

This actually made things a little easier for Raphael. He could skirt by every tussle and avoid every lone angel. They all though he was on ‘their’ side and looking for the next ‘enemy’ to engage with.

A booming vibration started in the middle of it all, sending every single angel tumbling for a few seconds, signaling Samael and Michael had crossed weapons again. Raphael righted himself and continued his search, staying as far from the epicenter of the battle as he could.

He was still struggling to understand how this had happened. One minute he’d been in the middle of Samael’s followers, following his fellow Archangel to the Throne of God, the next Samael and Michael had been in a shouting match. They both pulled their weapons, then all heaven had broken lose. The white, empty expanse of aether had been created from his siblings initial clash and just expanded from there. He didn’t know how or when the other angels had showed up, but it seemed like more and more appeared with every passing second. All of them furious.

Raphael felt, not only in his manifestation, but all the way down to his soul, his grace, when a tremble shook the entire pocket dimension. He needed to hurry. Oh where, oh where was Aziraphale?

He dipped beneath a group of warring angels. Four of them this time, all screaming and clawing at each other. None of them even noticed him. The waves of anger, resentment, and pain were starting to make him sick.

He’d tried already to escape this space. To get back to Heaven, or the cosmos, but Michael and Samael had created it and they were doing something to keep and draw angels here. His second plan, when the first failed, was to find Aziraphale. Maybe working together they could escape here, or just protect each other if the first bit failed. But finding a single specific angel was proving to be a challenge when surrounded with thousands of them, all dressed in exactly the same clothes.

A sudden weight on his foot stopped Raphael in his search. Reeling around he can face to face with another angel.

He didn’t recognize them, but barely got a look in before they started jamming a spear in his direction.

“Oi! I’m on you side!”

They just screamed at him and held into his ankle tighter.

A dodge to left, then the right. He tried to shake them off his foot, long nails digging painfully into his ankle.

Another boom ripple out from the center, sending Raphael tumbling towards his attacker. Their spear already raised in greeting. Raphael clenched his eyes shut. Preparing to meet his end at the hands of a sibling.

A sharp tug from the back of his collar pulled at him. His back met something warm, and soft and am arm had grabbed his waist.

“I suggest not.” Said a familiar voice and a flaming sword appeared from behind him. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I will.”

The sibling with the spear snarled, but released his ankle and flung themselves away.

Raphael relaxes into the embrace. “Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale mm’d in response, but released him enough so he could spread his wings again.

Raphael wasted no time spinning around and surging at Aziraphale. Grasping his face and pulling the other angel close. “Oh, Aziraphale. Finally found you.”

Aziraphale grasps his face in return and breathes a sigh. “Raphael… What is going on?” His blue eyes are searching his face, worried and confused.

Raphael shakes his head and presses closer to bury his face in Aziraphale’s fluffy hair.

For a moment, a single moment, there is peace around them. No sounds of battle. No anger or rage. Just two angels letting their love for each other shine.

Another violent tremble that shakes everyone to the core breaks the momentary bubble they created for themselves, but this tremble doesn’t stop.

Raphael grits his teeth and feels Aziraphale tense around him. The air is too heavy and everything is shaking and dread is building in his gut. He squeezes Aziraphale a little tighter.

“My dear, what is this it-”

It isn’t pain, but it is pressure. Pressing in all around them. He can see the other angels stopping in their fighting to clench hands around their heads or stomachs.

Something is coming. He can feel it. Can sense it. And it is setting every sense he has alight.

“Aziraphale.” He manages to choke out.

The other angel stares at him. Fear shining in his brilliant blue eyes and Raphael Knows. He knows what is coming. They all do. God was angry and She was coming.

And he feels it again. Like this is a turning point. Something special and unique and that his choices right this second will change everything. The same feeling he had when he promised to take Aziraphale to the cosmos. This is it, he needs to do Something and he might not get another chance.

He pulls Aziraphale’s face to his and presses their lips together in what will someday be called a kiss.

He feels the other tense at first, then relax, pressing back against him. Aziraphale’s lips are soft and warm and they move against his for a single second that fills Raphael up with so much heat he’s certain he’s going to explode.

He pulls away with a gasp. “I love you, Aziraphale.”

He beats his powerful wings, pushing the pain that suddenly sparks through his shoulders aside. Aziraphale reaches for him as he moves away, but the pressure is to much and grasps his arms around his middle “Wait.” He just barely manages to croak out.

“I have to go now. I have to stop this. Before it gets more out of hand.” If he can reach Michael and Samael, maybe, just maybe, they will listen to him.

The trembling and pressure make it hard to fly. His wings are sluggish and struggle to push through the air that is now crackling with power.

He weaves in and around the other angels. All of them in some state of shock or incapacitation, except Michael and Samael, who are still fighting. He can still hear their screams. The pressure is mounting, coming to a head. He pushes through the throngs of angels, shoving his siblings aside. He has to get to them. Has to stop them.

He’s barely able to push himself around a formerly dueling pair to see Michael plunge her sword into Samael’s stomach.

Everything slows to a crawl. Golden splattered across Both Michael and Samael’s clothes and gripping from their wounds. He’s screaming or, he would be, if time had not come to a complete stop.

Everything has stopped. Not a breathe, not a rustle, not a tremor. Everything is still and quiet, deafeningly so.

He can see the pain and anger on Samael’s face as he stares at Michael. And Michael, her face is etched with pain and sorrow and fury and betrayal. Her sword, buried deep in Samael. Golden blood dripping into the aether beneath them.

Raphael would be crying, were he able.

The space fills with light. So bright, so strong. It’s burning and soothing and all encompassing. The light is anger and sadness and love. It is in them and around them and the light speaks with Her voice.

**Samael. Favored Son. Morning Star.**

**You who was My first creation. You who I favored above all others. You who brought war unto Heaven.**

A high pitched whine draws Raphael’s attention. Samael, teeth clenched in rage, has moved. His hands have gripped the sword that holds him in place. His hands, covering Michael’s own, push. Slowly, painfully, pulling the sword from his body.

Her voice continues.

**I created you to love. I commanded you to love. And you refuse.**

Samael is screaming now. Gold pouring from the wound, and face twisted into something grotesque. Michael is pushing back. Both of their arms shaking with the effort.

**For your transgressions, I BANISH YOU FROM HEAVEN.**

Samael’s screams reach a fever pitch. His body is smoking and darkening. He struggles, reaching and grasping what ever his hands can touch, but they find no purchase.

**I CAST YOU, SAMAEL, INTO THE PIT.**

Raphael watches in horror as his beloved brothers wings betray him, and he Falls.

**AND I BANISH**

Raphael gasps as liquid hot fire erupts in his chest.

**ALL WHO FOLLOWED YOU**

He curls inward, the fire is bursting in his chest.

**INTO THE PIT**

He’s screaming now. He can’t stop. It’s too much. There are other screams all around him and he’s Falling. Falling and tumbling from the brilliance of Heaven.

Air whistling around ears, but he can’t open his eyes. Everything is pain and fire and it burns him to his core. The soft, warm, glow that had always been there, nestled gently inside is burning him up from the inside.

His wings go first. Every feather is a scream pulled from his lungs. When there is nothing left of them to burn, the fire eats at his arms and legs. Fingers and toes turning to ash. His eyes sizzle and pop in their sockets and molten, golden, liquid burn streaks down his face.

There is ash in the air now. Every breath is filled with it and every scream is choking him.

He doesn’t know how long he falls. Or how long he burns. It could have been a second. It could have been eternity. He also doesn’t know when it stops.

It’s over. The fighting is over. The pocket dimension is gone and they are all back in Heaven.

Well… Not all of them.

Aziraphale opens his eyes sluggishly. He awakens, sitting against a pillar in Heaven. Everything feels fuzzy and the memories of the battle are distant and refuse to come into focus. In fact, all memories of Heaven before the battle are like that.

He struggles for a moment. There was something, something Important that happened.

He feels his chest seize. _Raphael_.

Aziraphale stumbles to his feel, despite how they shake beneath him. He shuffles past angel after angel, all of them look scared or worried. None of them are Raphael. Raphael’s face is hazy and unfocused in his mind, but he knows, just knows, if he saw him again he would recognize him. He would know that face, that voice, that touch anywhere.

His legs collapse beneath him as he lets out a strangled sob. Raphael had said he loved him. Aziraphale coves his face with his hands, tears streaming down his face. It hurt. It hurt so much. There was a place, in his chest, where Gods love and warmth always sat. It now felt fractured and broken.

_He couldn’t have Fallen. He can’t. He loved me. He said he loved me. And they were cast out for refusing to love. He has to be here. Has to be here somewhere._

Aziraphale chokes back a wail. _Aziraphale, you idiot. Pull yourself together_. He had to keep hope. Raphael loved him. He would show up. He hadn’t Fallen.

He slowly pushes himself back to his feet. _I promise, my love, I will never stop searching for you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've actually had this mostly written for about two weeks. The battle was one of the first scenes I though up, but I'm kinda shit at writing combat/battle LMAO.
> 
> I'm actually a bit farther behind on chapters than i expected to be. Chapter 4 was just finished last night and will be uploaded next week. I'm hoping to get a lot more written in the mean time since I have solid plans for quite a few of the historical settings.
> 
> The fancy line-break is my own art! Do not use without permission!
> 
> Comments and Kudos are always welcome! You can find me on tumblr at: https://theladydrgn.tumblr.com


	4. Forsaken Not Forgotten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raphael awakens in Hell and Aziraphale is given an assignment.

**Hell**

He didn’t remember the landing. Not all who Fell passed out on the way down, but he had been one of the lucky few… or unlucky since he woke to fire and liquid stone coating every inch of him that hadn’t burned away in the initial fall.

The sudden awareness of how much pain he was in caused him to gasp. The molten rock and sulfur and brimstone he was suspended in filled his mouth and throat.

_I can’t breath._

_I’m suffocating._

_I’m dying._

_I’m going to die._

He flailed and thrashed. _Not like this. It can’t end like this._ He had no arms. He had no legs. He didn’t even have his wings, but there was something, perhaps unconsciously, that his body knew how to do: he swam.

This wasn’t like any swimming he’d done before. Arms and legs kicking, pulling him through the dust of nebulae. No, this was more of a… furious wiggling. The pain and panic having overridden most of his mental facilities, but his body seemed to know what it was doing, so he let it.

The magma was thick and heavy, but his new, thin, body darted through it, quick as a whip and before long his head was breaking the surface and his belly was sliding along jagged rocks.

He shook and heaved on the hard ground, expelling everything he’d just swallowed. It was just as disgusting and unpleasant coming up as it had been going down. His throat and mouth are raw and his scales still smoke with heat. Everything hurts, perhaps not as bad as the Fall, he can remember the Fall, every terrifying second of it is seared into his mind, but he hurts and aches and there’s a hallow emptiness in the center of his chest where Her love use to be. He wishes he could just drift into unconsciousness again.

Unfortunately, someone had noticed the large black and red serpent emerging from the pool.

“What have we here, then?”

He opens a single eye and is face to face with the most disgusting being he’s ever had the misfortune of seeing. A large gray toad is leering down at him. He’s not sure how he knows it’s leering, exactly, but it’s definitely leering. The toad smells of rotting flesh and is covered in maggots and festering lesions and his eyes are solid black.

When he doesn’t respond, the Toad leans in even closer. “Wha’sa matter? Burn yer tongue off?”

He hisses. “Jussst leave me alone.”

He doesn’t notice the toad has clawed feet until one of them is wrapped around the base of his skull, sharp dirty claws digging in between his scales. He hisses and squirms, trying to break free, but only succeeds in causing deeper wounds.

“Let go of meee! Don’t you know who I am? I’m… I’m…” He knows his name. He knows his name is Raphael. The name God gave him. A name he can no longer say. Every time he tries it dies on his lips.

The toad laughs and shoves his head into the sharp rocks. “Oh? Where you special Up There? Some big hotshot? Looks like you’re nothin’ now.”

The serpent hisses in response, but stops struggling.

“What have you got there, Hastur?” Another has approached. A large, though smaller than the toad, reptile of some kind. Black eyes swivel around its head and it’s covered in open, weeping, sores.

“Just a little snake that needs to learn his place.”

There is a glean in their eyes that sends a shiver down his long spine. He’s too tired to fight back as they drag him away from the lake and what ever power She had bestowed upon him in Heaven feels so far away now. The once wide and seemingly endless pool of power he’d used to craft stars and glide through the cosmos is but a small flickering thing now. He’d never been much of a fighter anyway. His powers had centered around healing and protection and creation. And as his captors drag him deeper and deeper into the surrounding caves, he resigns himself to the fact that he probably couldn’t have fought them off anyway.

He can’t even find it in himself to try and escape when the screaming starts.

**Heaven**

Heaven will never be the same. They all know this, deep inside, and they all mourn the lose of a third of their siblings. There are too many angels unaccounted for, though a few who had been missing have returned, having fled to the cosmos or the still unfinished at the time Earth.

Aziraphale holds out hope that Raphael had been one of the ones who fled. Hopes that somehow he had found a way out of the battle and had hid in his beloved stars. He wishes Raphael had taken him with him.

Despite the battle and the turmoil and the pain, Michael and the remaining Archangels are insistent that everything is still on schedule and soon the Almighty will create humanity with her own hands and it will be up to the remaining host to protect Her new creations from their Fallen brethren. He’s been told they are now called demons and that they are not to be trusted. That they will try and spread the corruption in them to the Earth and to humans. That they want to destroy everything God has created.

Aziraphale doesn’t know how the Archangels know all this, but he knows he can’t question it. Questioning the Plan and not trusting Her is how they lost so many. So Aziraphale keeps his head down and reminds himself that Raphael promised to take him to the stars one day, promised to come back for him. Sometimes, the memories, despite how foggy and unclear they are, are the only things that keep him going.

He tries every chance he gets to remember Raphael’s face and voice. Every memory of Raphael and Heaven and even the battle are all foggy and unclear. He knows what was said and what happened, but all the details are muddled. He knows he liked the sound of his voice and that his face was pleasing to look at. He remembers their conversations. He remembers how much Raphael loved the stars and how excited he was when the concept of plants was first introduced.

‘ _Look at how amazing they are! To think, they turn the light of the sun into food to grow and the little buggers do it all on their own! I wonder if God will let me keep some of them? A few are supposed to be good for medicine…. Once medicine’s actually useful, that is.’_

Every memory of Raphael is precious, and although none of his other memories of Heaven Before have faded anymore than they did already, he’s still terrified that if he doesn’t remember Raphael on a consistent basis than his memories of him will one day fade away completely.

If only remembering him didn’t hurt so much. He knows, from asking around, that the other angels have put Before out of their minds. Remembering their former friends and siblings is like picking at an open wound. Focusing on the here and now is much less painful for them, so that is what they do. And besides, Michael says their memories were altered the way they were by the Almighty so as to ease their mourning of their Lost siblings. So that it will be easier to thwart their evil ways when they meet on Earth.

Aziraphale wonders what that means for him that he can’t out it all out of his mind like the others.

With the Fall, and the battle that proceeded it, comes a renewed vigor for training and battle preparation. As a Cherub, Aziraphale is expected not only to keep up with his own training, but to also train lower choirs. He does so, of course. It’s his job, it’s expected, and although he might not enjoy it; they all know now the price of questioning.

It really isn’t all the long, in the grand scheme of things, before God is putting the finishing touches on Her grand creation. The First Man is having life breathed into him when Aziraphale receives his orders.

“So, the First Man will be placed in a garden?”

Gabriel nods curtly. “Yes. You and four other Cherubim will guard the gates to the garden, Eden. Rotating out with each other to guard the tree in the middle.”

Aziraphale nods slowly. Well that doesn’t sound too bad. “I see. Is there anything I need to know about the tree?.. that is.. er..” Gabriel gives him A Look. A look that Aziraphale knows. A look that says ‘asking questions is a problem, and you don’t want to be a problem, do you?’ “That is.. I was just, you know, making sure I have all the… pertinent information.”

Gabriel studies him for a moment. “Of course. The Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. The Almighty has declared the humans are not to take or consume any of the fruit it bears.”

“Ah. Right. Well that sounds… doable. Yes, doable!”

“One last thing. We are expecting demons to attempt to get into Eden. If you see any, strike them down. We don’t need them ruining God’s experiment.”

“N-no! Of course not!” He nods quickly, but he’s not exactly looking forward to the ‘striking them down’ bit. He really hopes the demons try the gate he’s not assigned to.

Apparently no one expected a demon to forgo an actual gate and burrow in through the bottom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing Crowley/Raphael waking up in Hell has been the hardest thing I ever written thus far. I ended up scrapping 3 other versions of it before settling on this one.
> 
> Normally I like to be a chapter or 2 ahead of updates, but because of irl shenanigans chapter 5 is still only about halfway done. I still plan on having it done by next week, but I can't promise it.
> 
> The fancy line-break is my art! Do not use without permission!
> 
> Comments are always welcome, and feel free to stop by and say 'hi' on Tumblr at theladydrgn.tumblr.com


	5. In the Beginning was a Garden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would like to give a HUGE shout out to everyone who has sent comments and kudos! Y'all are amazing, please enjoy this chapter than ended up being longer than expected <3
> 
> The fancy line-break is my art! Do not use without permission!

\+ **The Garden of Eden - 4004 BC – The Serpent**

A small section of ground in The Garden of Eden bulges and breaks, a large black and red serpent slithers from the hole it just created. It’s taken him longer than expected to get in. The thick walls that surround the garden not only rise high above the sands but also extend deep beneath the Earth. Cutting the garden off entirely from the rest of the planet. Other demons had tried and failed to gain access to the garden that holds Gods newest creation: Man. Until this very moment, the garden had been completely unsullied by demonic presence.

The snake takes a moment to get his bearings, glancing around the small clearing. Flowering bushes and fruit trees of all kinds surround this wooded area of the garden. The trees, tall and full, block out most of the sun, creating many dark and shadowy places. The snake darts under a particularly thick bush, tongue flicking to taste the air. He knows it will be the end of him if he’s caught.

‘Get up there and make some trouble, Crawly.’ That’s what they told him. That’s basically what they told every demon who’d been sent Topside thus far. It started of with, ‘An open top garden? That’s easy! Just fly right over the top!’ and ended with all fifteen demons smote out of the sky before they even made it to the walls. Then they tried storming the gates. Then sneaking into the gates. Climbing the walls had been meet with even more holy smiting and at that point the only demons left either had tried and failed, or were too terrified to try at all… and the newly named Crawly of course.

He’d protested that name, mind you.

‘ _Crawly? What kind of name is Crawly? It doesn’t really suit me...’_

‘ _Suit you!? You’re a snake. You crawl. Would you rather be called Slither?’_

‘ _No.. no. Crawly is fine.’_

‘Slither’ was just as bad in his mind, but he’d never had to actually name anything in heaven on his own. The names of stars and galaxy's and nebulae had just come straight from the Almighty once they were created. So coming up with his own name, well more like a new name, had been a bit of a daunting task. They hadn’t really given him a chance to actually think about it before ‘Crawly’ was what everyone was calling him. He still wished he could go by ‘Raphael’. He _liked_ his old name, even though the more time he spent as a demon the less and less he started feeling like ‘Raphael’ and the more and more he was feeling like something completely different. He wasn’t really sure _what_ he felt like now, or who. He wasn’t Raphael, that much he was certain. Something that made Raphael, Raphael had burned away in his Fall. Unfortunately Hell hadn’t really given him a chance to figure out who he was _now_.

Between being tortured by Hastur and Ligur, found by Beelzebub, forced to watch Hastur and Ligur be tortured for not telling them a new demon had crawled out of the lake, trying to stay out of larger demons ways, and being grabbed by the back of his head and told in no uncertain terms that he was to find a way into the blasted garden, Crawly really hadn’t had a chance to sit and think about who he was suppose to be now.

He just didn’t think ‘Crawly’ fit him, who ever ‘him’ was.

_Plenty of time to figure that out up here._ He was the only one who had figured out tunneling under the walls was a possibility, so it wasn’t too far fetched to believe he would be on his own for a bit.

Crawly slowly uncoils from his hiding place and begins his exploration of Eden. He figures if God hasn’t sent anyone after him yet or smote his scaly ass Herself, then She doesn’t actually care that he’s here. Because She does know he’s here. She’s all knowing. That’s just Angel 101.

He quickly finds out just how large the garden is. Sure, he saw it from the outside and it was definitely big, but doing a circuit around the outside and actually trying to maneuver around the inside are two completely different things. He’s actually pretty impressed. Before he Fell, he’d been told there was going to be at least one of every animal and plant, he didn’t really think they would go through with it. The variation in plants and animals make it easy for him go completely unnoticed and the garden really is beautiful. More than beautiful really, it’s paradise, or at least as close to paradise as is possible to come on Earth. Despite the scorching dry heat of the surrounding desert, inside the walls was the perfect mixture of just warm enough to be comfortable and not to humid. Crawly, specifically, thoroughly enjoys the feel of the sun on his scales. The heat of Hell had been overbearing and would sooner burn than warm, and Hell didn’t have an over abundance of shrubs and trees that give him more than enough places hide. A snakes paradise indeed.

He tries not to allow himself to even think that Aziraphale might be here, somewhere. He’s actually tried not to think of Aziraphale at all while in Hell. The few times he had had been tainted with resentment and anger. He hadn’t seen Aziraphale among the Fallen, so Crawly assumed the angel must still be an angel. Aziraphale never Fell, and why would he? He never went to any of Samael’s meetings. He never questioned anything.

It’s not fair. He knows it’s not fair. All he ever did was ask a few questions and listen to Samael’s grievances. It didn’t mean he agreed with him. It didn’t mean he would go against Her orders to love the humans. He hadn’t ever wanted to be involved in the fight.

The thought process was always the same and never went anywhere productive, so it was best to not even try and think about it. Besides, Aziraphale isn’t Fallen and it’s unlikely they will ever see each other again and even if they did it’s unlikely Aziraphale would be even remotely happy to see him now. In fact, it’s highly probable that Aziraphale would sooner smite him into oblivion than give him even a moment to explain anything.

It’s for the best if he never thinks about Aziraphale again and just focuses on doing this job and not getting smited.

By the time the sun is beginning to set, Crawly is a little bit disappointed that the only living breathing things he’s found so far is a plethora of animals. Not a single human person to be seen. He did find a few stone pathways, but steered clear of them. With nowhere to hide on the paths and the fresh memory of Beelzebub explaining in gory detail how angels deal with demons, he wasn’t exactly keen on the possibility of running into any of his former siblings, not with out at least some certainty he wouldn’t meet a very quick and holy ending. Though the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes that following one of those paths might actually lead him somewhere interesting quicker than just exploring on his own.

As night falls he figures it’s as safe its it’s going to get, so he picks a path and follows it deeper into Eden. Eventually it gives way to a large clearing with a small lake feed by waterfall that glitters in the moonlight. He can hear the gentle snoring, barely audible over the rush of water, of two humans. They lay curled together completely nude and sleeping soundly. A single, incredibly tall, tree dominates the center of the clearing.

Crawly waits and watches. The humans occasionally stir and move or mumble. They are vulnerable in this state, but despite apparently being Gods newest favorites, they seem to be unguarded. Crawly slowly winds his way around the edge of the clearing, in the direction of the sleeping humans.

He doesn’t get to far before movement on the far side of the tree catches his attention. Someone, vaguely person shaped, is walking slowly in the shadows. The person, creature, being, doesn’t seemed to notice him, so Crawly hunkers down in the tall grass and watches with rapt attention. They circle around the tree, slowly emerging from shadow. The blue light of the moon reveals a soft, plump face, and Crawly is certain he must be going mad.

There, standing not thirty feet away, face turned towards the light of the moon and stars he helped create, peaceful and relaxed, is Aziraphale.

Crawly watches with bated breath as the angel meanders around the great tree, his feet making not a single sound. Crawly is transfixed. Aziraphale looks just as he remembers him, but in the absence of the harsh, white light of heaven the colors of him seem to come alive. His white curly hair, taking on a blue hue, circles his head like a halo, the dusting of pink that always colors his cheeks and nose have darkened under the light, and his skin gives off an almost heavenly glow. He looked amazing. He looked beautiful, He looked _divine_.

Crawly almost doesn’t notice the sword and scabbard strapped to Aziraphale’s waist. Of course. Aziraphale was created and trained as a warrior, it should come as no surprise he was chosen as one of the guardians of Eden. He wonders if Aziraphale smited demons from the sky? If he had cut down former siblings when they climbed the walls? He wonders if Aziraphale would turn that sword against on him if he were to approach him.

It’s a sobering thought and Crawly is reminded of what he is. He’s a demon. Aziraphale is an angel. They are on opposite sides of a war now. Even if Aziraphale could recognize and remember him in this new form, it would be unlikely to end well.

Regardless, Crawly sits and waits and watches for the rest of the night.

\+ **The Angel**

Aziraphale is staring at the stars.

He’d never really gotten a chance to see them while in Heaven. He is a warrior, not an architect. The cosmos and the Earth and everything that made them what they are are not things he had ever been expected to be interested in. He honestly hadn’t given any of it much thought before… before Raphael. Wild, spontaneous, excitable Raphael. Who had always been eager to share what he created, especially with Aziraphale.

He wonders where Raphael is up there. If he’s lonely among the stars he created or if he even thinks of Aziraphale at all.

Aziraphale had tried, once things in Heaven had calmed down a bit, to ask the Archangels if they had seen Raphael or knew where he was. Specifically, he’d asked Michael. He didn’t really know Michael but the last time he asked Gabriel about Raphael he’d been chewed out, so Michael it was. The look she gave him when he asked, it would almost be called pitying.

‘ _Aziraphale, there is no need for you to be worrying about Raphael. He is where he belongs.’_

‘ _W-where he belongs? Oh… I-I see.’_

Aziraphale took that to mean the cosmos. Perhaps they sent him to look for any straggler angels still hiding or maybe he still had things to create up there. Regardless of the reason, Aziraphale couldn’t fly up there and check himself. All he could do was wait. Raphael had promised, after all. Promised to take him to the stars one day. Aziraphale still held out hope that promise would be kept.

Aziraphale has spent the majority of all his nights so far on Earth memorizing the night sky. This night is no exception, but being on apple tree duty is much more relaxing than gate duty. He doesn’t have to worry about watching for demons when on apple tree duty. It’s a bit difficult to watch for possible demonic activity and also count the stars at the same time. At least the humans are content to avoid the tree like they’ve been told and they fall asleep at night so it’s not like he really needs to pay attention to them then.

Aziraphale finds that the sun rises altogether to quickly. The darkness of night and stars that dot the sky are chased away by the suns rays. With the day comes a change in station, another angel takes his place at the tree and he goes back to the Eastern Gate for another few days, and the waking of the humans. He watches them stumble toward the lake like they do every morning. He can’t help but be a little sad at the sight of Adam and Eve’s companionship. They are always together, never without the other. They share everything. And although they are the only Man and Woman on Earth, he can’t help but wish his Raphael, his companion, was here with him.

He turns from them and heads back to his post. His heart might be heavy, but he still has a job to do.

\+ **The Serpent**

In the grass a serpent watches. He watches the sun slowly rise over the walls of Eden. He watches Man and Woman wade into the lake. Watches a new angel take Aziraphale’s place in guarding the tree. He watches Aziraphale walk east.

‘ _Now why would they post an angel to guard an apple tree and not Gods favored pets?’_ He is certain now, with the humans off out of sight, that the angels are indeed guarding the tree. _‘Curious.’_

It’s a puzzle. And he has multiple routes to solving it. He could follow the humans, while they are out of the angels sight it would be easy to slither up to one of them and ask, he could wait here and observe and bide his time, or… he could follow Aziraphale…

The serpent makes his choice.


	6. In the Garden there was a Snake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the week late update! IRL things happened and it just didn't get done in time. Next chapter is mostly done, however, and should be uploaded next Sunday!

**\- The Garden of Eden - 4004 BC – The Serpent**

He wanted to follow Aziraphale. Of course he did. But the possibility of being smited right back to the bowels of Hell without a single thing to show for it made him reconsider. Aziraphale had been assigned to guard the garden, so it stood to reason he would still be here at least until something happened. Crawly had time.

He decided to follow the humans and would have left right away to go after them if not for a sudden flash and crack of a single bolt of lightning. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust from the sudden bright light, but when they did he really wasn’t sure if he should or shouldn't be worried to see his former sibling, Archangel Gabriel, striding confidently toward the angel that took Aziraphale’s place.

“Arariel! How goes the… er… Tree Duty? Anything to report?”

“No sir. Just traded places with Aziraphale. He’s back at the Eastern Gate.”

Gabriel nodded. “Good, good. No demon activity then?”

The angel, Arariel, shook their head. “No sir. Seems they are giving us a bit of a break.”

“And the humans haven’t tried eating from the tree?”

“Not that I’m aware of. I haven’t seen seen them since I replaced Aziraphale.”

Gabriel clapped the angel on the shoulder. “Good work! Just keep your eyes open for demons. It’s too quiet, they must be planning something big.”

Arariel stood up a little straighter. “Of course, sir!”

It was almost laughable. Crawly couldn’t believe he had actually been worried about being found out yesterday. None of them had a single clue he was here. Not only that, but now he had an idea for how to ‘cause some trouble’. They didn’t want the humans eating from that one tree? Well, he might be able to do something about that.

He slipped quietly away from the center of the garden in search of the two humans.

All in all it only took four days to convince Eve to eat from the tree. He hadn’t even needed to use any of his powers. Well, except to knock out the trees guardian that day, he hadn’t intended on Aziraphale being the angel he lulled to sleep with infernal power, but it had been nice to get an up close look at him for the first time in who knew how long. He made sure to make himself scarce before the angel woke up though.

So he convinced Eve and Eve convinced Adam. He wasn’t even sure he could really call it convincing. All he did was ask a few pointed questions and point out how silly it was. Did they really believe God would kill Her favored creations over a single apple? It was ridiculous. And it wasn’t really HIS fault if God got all huffy about it and kicked them out of Eden. It was all a bit anti-climatic though. No booming voice. No shaking Earth. No sky going dark. Just being told to get out and not come back. He expected a bit more fanfare really. It was enough to make him wonder if this was the expected outcome. He really didn’t want to think of how much trouble he would be in with Hell if he somehow ended up exactly what God had wanted all along.

Crawly did note, however, that She didn’t have them killed like they thought, just two more creations of Hers kicked out of their home. He was beginning to see a pattern.

Regardless if God was becoming predictable or not, his job was done. Which meant he could be a bit reckless. Which meant he could try to talk to Aziraphale. And if he got smited for his trouble? Well, he needed to report back to Hell anyway, and it would at least let him know if approaching Aziraphale in the future would be a good idea or not.

He had only used the bare minimum of his powers thus far, too paranoid about getting caught. He wasn’t actually sure he could do it, but his best chance at Aziraphale recognizing him was to actually look man-shaped. Being a snake was great and all, even though he did miss having arms and legs, but it wasn’t a form he ever took in Heaven and it wasn’t a form he would expect Aziraphale to know.

He slithered up the wall next to the Eastern Gate where Aziraphale stood and called upon the powers within him that had once given him the ability to shape the cosmos. Bones and muscles twisted and changed and his scales disappeared under his skin until he was fairly certain he looked like his old self. He noticed his wings, once the purest white, were now burnt completely black. Next to Aziraphale’s holy white wings they were darker than the void of the cosmos. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that just yet.

Aziraphale hadn’t noticed him. The angel was wringing his hands and looking out over the desert. Large dark clouds were slowly amassing and heading toward the garden.

“Well that went down like a lead balloon.”

Aziraphale startled, turning quickly. There was a brief flash of what Crawly was certain was recognition across his face, but it was gone and replaced with nervous apprehension as he looked away.

“I-I’m sorry?”

“I sssaid that went down like a lead balloon.” Oh. He was gonna have to work on that ‘s’ thing, but Aziraphale didn’t look like he was going to attack. That was good, right?

“O-oh. Yes. I suppose it did.”

“Bit of an over reaction if you assk me. First offensse and everything. It was just one fruit and I can’t really sssee whats ssso bad about knowing the difference between Good and Evil, anyway. If anything it should make it harder to get them to do wrong in the future.” He realized if he focused a bit on how his tongue moved in his mouth he could actually make his s’s less obnoxious sounding. He didn’t mind it when hew as a snake, but he felt if he was going to take this shape, he might as well sound the part.

Aziraphale kept glancing at him then looking away quickly. “Yes, well, it must be bad. You tempted them into it, after all.”

The no smiting thing was definitely good, but Aziraphale was obviously anxious, worrying his hands in his robes. Crawly figured anxious was better than disgust or even anger. He still couldn’t tell if Aziraphale recognized him. There was that brief second that Crawly thought he might, but it was gone now and Aziraphale wasn’t acting like they were familiar, hadn’t tried to call him by his old name. It could just be nerves… Best to play it cool and act as if he doesn’t know him. “Oh, I don’t know about that. They just said ‘get up there and make some trouble’. Is it really tempting them if I just pointed out the hypocrisy of it all?”

“Yes it’s bad. You’re a demon. It’s what you do. And what do you mean by ‘hypocrisy’? The rule was very clear: Don’t eat from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. They could eat from any other tree, just not that one and it was you who convinced Eve to do it anyway.” Aziraphale lifted his chin up there at the end.

“Oh come on. It wasn’t very subtle of the Almighty, was it? Big bloomin’ tree in the middle of the blasted garden with a ‘don’t touch’ sign. If She really didn’t want them eating it She should have put in on a high mountain, or the moon.”

Aziraphale gave him a look of pure puzzlement. “The moon?”

“Yeah, you know, somewhere they could never get to it. Course a tree would never survive on the moon on its own. No atmosphere to keep it warm or carbon dioxide to help it grow. No water either. Suppose a mountain would be better.”

The angel was staring at him openly now, mouth slightly agape. “How… how do you know so much about the moon?”

Shit. “Oh, well, you know. S’not that big a deal...” He couldn’t just come out and say: ‘Of course I know all about it, I made it with my own hands. Was the most boring thing the Almighty asked me to make, it’s just a giant hunk of rock put in place to keep the Earths oceans in check’. “All I’m saying is: just makes you wonder what the Almighty is really planning.”

“Best not to speculate. It’s all part of Her Great Plan. We aren’t meant to understand it… It’s ineffable.” Aziraphale stood up a little straighter.

Oh he’d heard that one before, though Michael had been fond of the phrase ‘God works in mysterious ways’. Wasn’t any less frustrating. It was just a deflection of any actual critical thinking.

Aziraphale was still talking, but he had started to tune him out. Something didn’t look right. Something was missing... Where was his sword?

“...incapable of being put into words.”

“Didn’t you have a flaming sword?” He knew Aziraphale had a flaming sword. All Cherubim had one.

Aziraphale clammed up and looked away quickly. “Er..”

“You did! It was flaming like anything. What did you do with it?” Aziraphale had had that flaming sword since before the fall and Crawly couldn’t remember a time when he’d seen the angel without it.

“I...”

“Haven’t even been here that long and you lost it already?”

Aziraphale shuffled from foot to foot and refused to look back at him, mumbling something unintelligible that sounded strangely like ‘gave it away’.

“What was that?”

“I gave it away!” His voice going more shill with every word. “There are vicious animals out there, night is falling, it’s cold in the desert at night, and she’s expecting! I have to go back to Heaven soon and I couldn’t just let them go with no protection to speak of!”

Crawly was going to have to pick his jaw up off the ground at this rate. Aziraphale gave away a Heaven forged blade? The blade that had been created at the same time Aziraphale had? Cherubim considered their swords to be extensions of their very souls. And he gave it away!? Just because he felt bad for them?

Aziraphale had been worried for the humans. Had cared about them. He knew Aziraphale was kind, he’d seen it first hand when he’d been absolutely beside himself with worry over hurting his fellow Cherubim during sparing. This was odd, but at least explainable. There was a certain kinship, or brotherhood, among angels of the same sphere and an even stronger bond to those they had been created with. But this was different. This was a kindness the likes of which Crawly had never seen before.

The sudden fluttering of his heart was a new development. As was the way everything seemed a little brighter, despite the thick clouds doing their absolute best to shroud everything in shadow. He knew Aziraphale would certainly be punished for this. There was no way Heaven would over look it, and yet he did it anyway.

“Oh I hope I didn’t do the wrong thing...”

“Oh you’re an angel. I don’t think you can do the wrong thing.” And he didn’t mean it as in ‘angels in general can’t do the wrong thing’. Hell was a prime example of angels doing the wrong thing. No, he mean it as in ‘you, Aziraphale, are and angel and can’t do the wrong thing’.

All the anxiety and nervousness Aziraphale had been holding on to was immediately released. “Oh? O… oh thank you! It was bothering me...” His cheeks taking on a slightly pink hue.

Oh. Oh, that felt good. The bright smile Aziraphale was giving him now was making him feel weak. “You know… talking about this whole ‘ineffable plan’ business… makes me wonder if I did the right thing. If eating the apple was part of Her plan all along. A demon can get into trouble for doing the right thing.”

“Oh, I’m sure you-”

Oh that was a little too vulnerable. “Actually, you know what? Wouldn’t it be funny if we got it round backwards? If I did the good thing and you did the bad one?” He chuckled. Sure their bosses might not think it funny, but it would be pretty ironic.

Aziraphale laughed along with him before realizing what was being implied. “What!? No! That wouldn’t be funny at all!”

“Well-” A sudden crack of lightning startled Crawly and he looked around wildly. That’s how Archangels arrived and he didn’t want to get Aziraphale in trouble for talking to him. But there was no Archangels, only the very beginning of the very first rain. A few drops hit his face before a large white wing lifted to cover him. He was about to ask Aziraphale what he thought he was doing, sheltering a demon, but the angel didn’t even seem to realize he did it, completely focused on watching Adam and Eve fight off a lion.

Just another example of Aziraphale’s kindness. Crawly shuffled closer as the rain came down harder. He was sure his heart was going to give out with all the fluttering and stuttering it was doing all of a sudden.

Aziraphale glanced at him, then at his extended wing, then back to Crawly. “I uh, I didn’t get your name?”

Well, that answered that question. Aziraphale didn’t know him. Though, perhaps it was for the best. He wasn’t Raphael anymore and could never be again. “Crawly… I’m Crawly.”

Aziraphale nodded. “Aziraphale. I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but well...”

Crawly smirks. “S’ alright. I’ll say it was nice to meet you, though.”

Both otherworldly beings watch Adam take Eve’s hand as the crest over a dune and disappear into the desert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ended up having to rewrite the beginning of this chapter 4 times before I finally settled on what is posted. Originally Crowley was going to follow Aziraphale and they were going to meet before the Wall Scene, but it just didn't flow right so i ended up scraping the first 500 words.
> 
> I didn't want to just rewrite the Wall Scene verbatim so I hope I changed it enough to be unique. I really don't like rewriting canon stuff, but I felt the Wall was a very important establishing scene. I will, however, be avoiding rewriting canon scenes from here on out unless I'm making major changes.
> 
> The fancy line-break is my art! Do not use without permission!


	7. Punishments of Heaven and Rewards of Hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Aziraphale experiences something a bit traumatic in his portion of this chapter. I don't think it's enough to up the rating, but please let me know if I have misjudged.
> 
> As always, I have no beta so any mistakes are my fault.

**\- Aziraphale - 4004 BC**

The rain eventually let up and Crawly had already returned to Hell, saying he was sure they would be waiting for him, Adam and Eve had long since disappeared over the horizon, and night had fallen. Aziraphale was still standing on the wall. He wanted one last look at the stars before returning to Heaven. No telling when, or if, he would ever get a chance to see them again.

He tried to focus, to memorize the patterns they created across the inky blackness of space, but his thoughts kept being drawn to the demon, Crawly.

He wasn’t like any demons Aziraphale had seen before, not to mention the constant feeling like he should know him. It was possible Crawly had been a Cherub before the Fall, that they might have met before, but he hadn’t acted like he knew Aziraphale. He wondered if the Fallen even remembered Heaven at all. He supposed it didn’t matter. They were on opposite sides now and it was unlikely he would ever see that particular demon again – not that he wanted to see him again, absolutely not – but Crawly was probably going to receive some reward from Hell for being the first demon to land a blow against Heaven on Earth.

Aziraphale knew he wouldn’t be getting any rewards or praise. He’d fallen asleep at the tree, he still wasn’t sure exactly how that had happened, and the humans had eaten the fruit. Not only that, he’d also ‘lost’ his sword. Sure, The Almighty had _asked_ but She didn’t really say anything one way or the other. He was sure She _knew_. She’s GOD. She didn’t strike him down or make him Fall for not having it or for the dodging of the question. He didn’t _lie_ , not really. He _had_ just… set it down… set it down in Eve’s hands. Was the omitting of information lying? Aziraphale was determined to think it wasn’t. With those two things combined, well, Aziraphale wanted to hope it wasn’t enough to make him Fall. Even though Crawly didn’t seem to mind being Fallen.

Oh bugger, why did his all his thoughts seem to go right back to Crawly all of a sudden?

He really was determined to not be thinking about the infuriatingly familiar demon who’d saddled up to him easy as you please and struck up conversation instead of doing battle. Infuriatingly familiar. Infuriatingly good at conversation. Infuriatingly handsome. Honestly, a demon had no right to have such a pleasing looking form!

Oh that was a line of thought he really shouldn’t go down. Not at all. What would Raphael think when he returned? Perhaps it really was best he return to Heaven and face what ever reprimand was waiting for him. At least in Heaven there were no temptingly attractive demons.

And at that Aziraphale knew it really was time to go. He took a deep breath and spread his wings. Although the Archangels could just come and go from Heaven with a thought, everyone else had to do it the manual way: flying.

Around 7 miles above the surface of the earth the plane that housed Heaven met with the physical plane. It wasn’t anything that could be seen exactly, but ethereal beings, like Aziraphale, could just sense the slightest change in the air around him. It resonated with the very core of him, the core that was filled with Her Grace. All it took was a thought and he was landing on the stark white balcony of Heaven.

The sudden change from Earth to Heaven was almost overwhelming. Aziraphale had to lock his knees to keep from falling face first into the perfectly polished floor. Aziraphale could always feel Gods love and holiness. He was an Angel, and a little bit of their Creator was at the core of all of them, but that holiness had felt… muted while on Earth. Like a gentle whisper in the back of his mind. Returning to Heaven was like having that holiness turned up to eleven and ringing in his ears. It wasn’t unpleasant per se, just entirely distracting and over-riding almost everything else.

When had this happened? He didn’t think Heaven had been this… much when he’d gone to Earth. He didn’t really get a chance to contemplate it before Arariel approached him.

“Cherubim Aziraphale. The Archangel Gabriel has requested your presence, at your earliest convenience, in Conference Room 1.”

Aziraphale’s hands were worried in his robes again. “O-oh. Right. Yes. I’ll head there straight away.”

Once Arariel takes their leave Aziraphale gives himself just enough time to take in a steadying breath. He might not actually need to breath, strictly speaking, but he found a nice long inhale and exhale can do wonders for nerves.

It doesn’t help his nerves this time and by the time he’s gathered up enough of himself to actually make it to Conference Room 1 Aziraphale is certain he’s worried permanent wrinkles into his robes.

Gabriel is waiting for him when he arrives. Hands clasped in front of him and his usual smile that never seems to reach his violet eyes. “Ah. Aziraphale. Thank you got joining me. Please, shut the door. We wouldn’t want to be disturbed.”

Aziraphale does as he is bid and waits anxiously as his superior studies him. He doesn’t pray, that would be a bit telling, but he does hope Gabriel doesn’t notice his missing sword.

Gabriel begins to pace, head tilted upward ever so slightly. “Tell me, Aziraphale, how is it that a trained warrior of the Almighty allows a lowly demon to slip past him?”

Aziraphale feels the blood in his corporation grow cold. _No beating around the bush then_. “I, well you see, that is-”

“I suppose it doesn’t matter how, exactly, he did it.”

Aziraphale tries his best to keep his hands folded in front of himself. He ends up clutching them so tightly together that, if he were mortal, they would have surely fallen off. “O-oh?”

The Archangel stops his pacing, but doesn’t turn to face Aziraphale fully. He looks at the Cherub from the corner of his eye. As a Cherub, Aziraphale was not gifted the ability to sense the emotion of others, that was reserved for lower choirs who’s job it would be to guide the humans, but even he could feel the contempt in Gabriel's gaze. “No. What matters is: it was your job to keep the humans from eating that apple. It was your job to guard that tree. You had one job that day, Aziraphale, and you failed.”

Aziraphale had never been punched in the gut before, but he was convinced, in this moment, that were it to ever happen, it would feel exactly like he feels now. “I-I never intended. It wasn’t-”

Gabriel rounds on him, stalking forwards. His smile is there there, but there is no glee in it and there’s something about it that sends a shiver of terror through Aziraphale. There is a crackling of energy surrounding the Archangel, slivers of his power and celestial light leaking from his corporation. “It doesn’t matter what you intended. You failed, Aziraphale. You know failure can not be tolerated.”

Gabriel latches onto his face roughly, fingers digging into his temples, power surging around him. Aziraphale cries out as the Archangels celestial power latches onto his. His wings spread wide against his will and white hot pain courses through him to his very core. The claws of Gabriel’s grace pushing and twisting and shoving his own down, down, down.

He feels a ripping, a tearing, as his angelic powers are folded in on itself. He can’t move his body. “Please. Gabriel. Stop.” Ever word choked out and punctuated with a scream.

“You will be made an example to the others.” Gabriel’s voice is cool and measured. Aziraphale can barely hear it over the roaring in his ears.

One final spike of pain causes his vision, already distorted with tears, to go white then black as Gabriel seals his work.

When all is done and Gabriel releases him, Aziraphale slumps unconscious to the pristine floor. Once rosy cheeks pale and streaked with tears.

Gabriel steps around his prone form and leaves without a single glance back.

**\- Crawly**

Returning to Hell was just as horrid as leaving it. He had to burrow in his snake form for miles beneath the Earth before he felt the minute change in pressure that signaled the change from the material plane to that of Hells. He then had to burrow for even longer before he finally broke ground in Hell.

Tired, aching, and covered in dirt and other things, Crawly slowly slithered from his hole. Hell was still dark and he wasn’t exactly sure where he was, but he knew if he wandered around a bit he’d eventually either run into someone who knew where Beelzebub was, or hear the buzzing of the swarm they were made of.

It really didn’t take long at all for the swarm that was Beelzebub was descend upon him.

“Zzzo the Zzerpent returnz. We have already heard about the humanz being exiled.”

That was… quick… “O-oh? You have? Sssposse I don’t need to tell you then.”

“No. You don’t need to tell me. You need to tell our lord.”

“Oh that’sss great I’ll jusst be go – wait what?”

“You heard me. Our great lord haszz heard of your Great Temptation of the humanzzz and requestszz your audience.”

Well bugger. He had actually been avoiding Samael – or Lucifer as he was calling himself these days. “Oh. Right, yeah. Sure. I’ll jusst… er… go do that then?”

Beelzebub buzzes, as they do, and continues past him.

Crawly has never been to the chamber the Lord of Hell has claimed for himself. It’s not that he doesn’t know where it is, on the contrary, the ‘Throne Room of Hell’ is, perhaps, the only thing in the whole place that actually has a fixed spot. Hell is a constantly changing, constantly moving thing. He’d call it alive if the entire realm wasn’t the perfect antithesis to life.

He’s at the doors of the throne room before he knows it. The doors are flanked by two behemoth sized demons with the bodies of men and heads of boars. They snarl at him around their blackened tusks, but open the doors anyway, watching him slither through with four beady black eyes apiece.

The throne room is large, imposing, and shrouded in shadows. Only a few pits of hellfire light the way from the entrance to the throne that sits atop a dais, over looking the chamber.

And of course there sits Samael, The First to Fall, Lucifer. He is resting his chin on his fist, not even remotely looking at Crawly.

Crawly is struck with just how little he changed. He’s not some grotesque monstrosity, some half man beast. He looks exactly the same as he did as an angel. His wings, midnight black and draped across his throne, is the only difference Crawly can see.

He approaches cautiously. Samael had been his beloved brother, he doesn’t know who Lucifer will be to him yet. “Lord. You requessssted to ssssee me?”

Crawly is only spared a glance. “Come closer, little serpent.”

He does as he is bid, gliding over the steps of the dais and coiling at the King of Hells feet.

All the attention is on him now. The same dark eyes he remembers from Heaven, but now the burning that had always hidden there has come to to the forefront and it’s all directed straight at him. It’s unnerving to have the full attention of The Lord of the Burning Pit. Almost as unnerving as having the full attention of God, which Crawly had only experienced twice in his entire existence: the first was when he was created, obviously, the second was right after he finished crafting Alpha Centauri… She said She liked it.

Crawly isn’t sure what he expected Lucifer to do or say, but the almost feral grin that breaks across his face followed by “I wondered if it was you, brother,” was not it.

“You know who I am, then?”

The chuckle that resonates through the room holds no mirth in it. Satan leans towards him, elbows on his knees and nose to snout with the snake at his feet. “Oh, brother. We are cut from the same cloth, you and I. I would know you no matter your form, Raphael.”

The name is clear bell in his mind. Hearing it sends a violent tremor through his entire body, from tip to tail. The name drips with holy love and light and it feel simultaneously whole and right and his and also broken and wrong and foreign.

He recoils at the sound of it. Coiling his body tightly around itself and hissing indigently. “Don’t call me that. That’sss not who I am anymore.”

Satan retreats, resting his chin on his hand and leaning against an arm of the throne. “No. I suppose not. They say your name is Crawly.”

He uncoils just a bit. “Er, yeah. I didn’t pick that, though.”

Satan frowns at him. “Change your form, I know you can. I can’t take you seriously looking like that.”

He’s transformed twice already and it’s even easier the third time. “Sssorry about that. Wasn’t sure if I should show up looking like my old self or not.”

Satan smiles now and wraps an arm around his shoulders. It almost feels just like old times. “No need to apologize. Come. Walk with me. Tell me all about this ‘Great Temptation’ everyone is talking about.”

They walk and Crawly describes the garden, Adam and Eve, how he didn’t even really tell Eve to eat that apple, he just asked a few questions and pointed out how silly it was. His brother even laughs when Crawly expresses how God is becoming predictable and couldn’t even come up with something more interesting than exile.

“That really was clever, brother. The others just wanted to kill the humans, which would have been fine, but this is so much better! I wonder if She feels foolish? Do you think She is capable of such a thing?”

Crawly purposefully leaves out how he was wondering if She planned this all along and his conversation with Aziraphale on the gardens wall. He didn’t think his brother would continue to think he was clever if it was revealed it was what She wanted all along. He didn’t know if it was, but the sentiment would certainly not be accepted happily.

“You really did well, brother, and you should be rewarded.”

“Rewarded?”

“Legions, power, titles. I control all of it here. Say the word, what ever you want, and you shall have it. I can deny you nothing, my brother.”

Crawly feels thrown for a loop. They were never rewarded for doing their jobs in Heaven. A job done right had just been expected. “I don’t… Is a reward really necessary?”

Lucifer rolls his eyes theatrically. “You can refuse, of course, but think about it. You were one of the Seven. You can’t tell me you don’t want that kind of power again.”

Crawly can remember the feeling of crafting nebulae and stars and planets. How with a thought he could summon up the proper atoms and elements, weaving them together intuitively to create beautiful configurations of gas and light and color. As one of the Seven Archangels his power had been multitudes, the power of creation barely contained within a corporeal form. Now it was a tiny wiggly thing that almost didn’t exist at all.

“I… Yeah of course.”

Lucifer waves the hand that’s not on Crawly’s shoulder and it’s all Crawly can do to stay upright against the sudden influx of power. It fills him up to the very brim and he has to clench his teeth to keep from crying out. He shakes with the exertion of trying to trying to fold his form together against the onslaught of power.

Lucifer waits and watches as Crawly slowly stops his tremors, eventually unclenching his teeth to gasp like he just ran a marathon.

“Oh come on. Should be close to what you had to work with before. I can’t give you the exact same power level, but it should be close enough.”

“Y-yeah it’s…” It’s close. Really close. He hadn’t realized how empty he’d felt, how sluggish and exhausted he was until the sparks of magic and power were curling around his fingertips begging to be released. He could almost say he felt like his old self, but there was still a large chunk of his soul missing where Her love and grace had been, bits and pieces of that chunk had just been filed in a little.

“Now that that’s taken care of, how about a title? I can give you command of entire legions of our new family.”

Crawly shook his head. “No… no. I was never any good at being in charge… Before. I don’t want to command anyone. I just...”

Lucifer raised a dark eyebrow. “Just...?”

“I… I would rather just stay on Earth… I mean, the humans are still alive up there and, from the looks of things, about to be multiplying. Would probably be… useful to keep someone up there. Keep an eye on things. Tempt them into doing wrong.”

Lucifer grinned at him and grabbed him by both shoulders. “You really are clever, aren’t you? Very well. If that is what you would like, you will be our Field Agent on Earth. I know you won’t disappoint me, brother.”

Crawly nodded quickly. He cared about his brother, really he did, but Earth was just so much nicer than Hell. Earth wasn’t cramped dark, he could see the stars he made every night, and maybe, just maybe, he could see Aziraphale again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if it will ever be brought up specifically in the fic, but I have very particular headcanons about how Heaven and Hell are run and how Angels and Demons get their power:  
> \- Other angels, even Archangels, can not make another angel Fall. Their status as a Demon or Angel is between them and God.  
> \- An angels power is a gift from God and She is the one who supplies it. Since demons are separated from God, they receive their powers from Lucifer/Satan. High status in Heaven does not equal high status in Hell, Lucifer gives out power based on what you've done for him or how much he likes you.
> 
> With that out of the way, I hope what Gabriel did was obvious enough. If not, I can answer questions in the comments~
> 
> The fancy line-break is my art! Do not use without permission!
> 
> If you want to scream about Good Omens or our favorite ineffable idiots you can find me at: theladydrgn.tumblr.com


	8. The First Murder and The Flood

**\- Crawly - Some years after 4004 BC**

Crawly doesn’t see Aziraphale again for just over one thousand years.

When Crawly first got back to Earth, a few years had passed already. Practically the entirety of Hell had been celebrating their first victory over Heaven and might have gotten more than carried away with it. But he did need to get back, he did have a job to do after all. So he left the rowdy partying demons and returned.

There wasn’t much to do at first, really. Adam and Eve had already started multiplying, but the new little humans were little more than lumpy flailing potatoes that screamed a lot. He didn’t dislike them, not by any stretch, but it wasn’t exactly possible to corrupt the soul of a being that couldn’t yet understand object permanence. He does help with the first few of the births though, nothing blatant or obvious, but Eve was obviously in sever amounts of pain and there was a lot of blood and he _was_ meant to be a healer. So he eases the process as much as he can from a distance.

And he really did have to keep his distance. Not only did they wield a flaming sword, that Crawly was certain use to belong to Aziraphale, against any and all snakes and predators of any kind anywhere near the cave they had made their home, they also spoke aloud to God almost every night and morning for Her to forgive them for what they had done to offend Her. They even started burning specific plants during their morning and nightly rituals that made Crawly’s skin itch and burned his lungs if he happened to breathe it in. They also started teaching the small humans what to look out for and what made God angry as soon as they were old enough to understand it.

All he was really able to manage, even with his new surge of infernal power, was making them irritable with each other. It was good fun inciting the children to cause enough chaos to make Eve forget dinner long enough for it to burn or lulling Adam to sleep during a hunt. He could see the minuscule sliver of taint on their souls grow every time they yelled or snapped in anger. The ripple of emotion in the First Family is fascinating to Crawly. One small sibling squabble would not only make all the other children irritable, but their bad mood would run off on Eve and, if he plated his cards right, could end in a screaming match between the two adults by the end of the day. He’s not too concerned that what ever tendril of darkness creeps into their hearts is mostly gone after their daily rituals.

A few batches of kids later and Crawly’s fun is cut surprisingly short.

If ever asked about it, Crawly would insist that both Cain and Abel were pretty good kids. Sure Cain was a bit of a hothead, but he would usually cool his temper by working in his little garden. Abel was arrogant and thought a bit highly of himself, but he was always patient with the animals they raised and his younger siblings. Despite their differences the two were actually pretty close, so the tragedy that befell them came as shock to everyone.

Cain was sitting under an olive tree, scowling at the nearby alter that was little more than a long flat stone sitting on top of a few smaller stones. The remnants of Cain’s offering, the best fruits and vegetables his garden had provided, was scattered around the clearing while Abel’s offering, a fresh young lamb, had been laid out and butchered on the alter.

He wouldn’t notice the presence of the demon leaning over his shoulder.

“All that hard work, gone to waste.”

Cain clenches his fists, arms crossed over his knees.

“Abel always thought he was better than everyone else, now God thinks he is too.”

The scowl deepened.

“He could probably stand to be knocked down a few pegs.”

Cain surged upwards, teeth bared and snarling and stomped out into the nearby fields.

Crawly nodded to himself and shifted back into a snake. He didn’t need to stick around to see what Cain did or said, they would probably quarrel a bit, maybe get into a fistfight. God had practically given him this opportunity on a sliver platter, Cain always had been the easy one to rile up. He slithered into the grass, he could probably work Eve into a right state if he could get a few more of the kids to fight today.

He’s basking on a stone above the cave when one of the younger kids comes screaming from the fields. Eve rushes to her, trying to sooth and console while also trying to figure out what could possibly make her daughter so upset.

Eve lets out a heart wrenching cry when one of the other boys, along with Adam, come into view. Adam is carrying the limp body of Abel, head bloodied and smashed in. Even at a distance Crawly can see his soul no longer resides in his body. The other boy, Seth, is dragging Cain kicking and snarling behind him. Cains hands are covered in blood that isn’t his and for the first time Crawly sees what a truly tainted human soul looks like.

Cain has committed a grievous sin against God. The family argues for hours about what they should do. Adam wants Cain to suffer the same way he made Abel suffer, but Eve can’t bare the thought of another of her sons leaving this world despite his crime. Eventually the decide to exile him, like God exiled them. Cain is told to leave and never return.

Crawly listens to the entire thing, but he doesn’t feel his usual amusement at his meddling. He never intended for Cain to kill his brother. It leaves a sour feeling in his mouth and a lead weight in his belly and Crawly leaves Adam and Eve the next morning. Perhaps he’s spent too much time with the humans, grown too close.

Crawly travels for a very long time after that. There’s more to the Earth than deserts and scrub land and he intends on seeing it all and the humans have already started spreading out. He goes back to Hell once, and promptly leaves again when he realizes being the tempter for the First Murder got him even more notoriety. He tries to find Eden, but it has either been destroyed or God moved it somewhere else. So for lack of a better option, he goes to the other side of the Earth. A change in scenery and entirely different kinds of humans to cause chaos with is exactly what he needs.

He ends up spending the majority of his time in China. The humans there have recently created a new type of beverage called ‘wine’ and Crawly takes a shine to it almost instantly.

He only returns to what will someday be called Mesopotamia because he gets this itching, tickling sensation on the back of his neck.

He stretches out his occult senses and is almost blown over from the amount of power that is being built. Something is going on, and he’s sure Hell would want to be involved.

**\- 3004 BC**

He lands just outside a village next to the biggest boat he’s ever seen. A massive crowd of people are gathered around it, while a group of others can be seen ushering pairs of animals up the ramp and into the hull. The ludicrous amount of energy he sensed seems to be centered around this particular valley. This close to it he can tell it’s the power of Creation and it sets his teeth on edge.

He slips easily into the crowd and doesn’t try to hide his presence, he’ll actually have to talk to them if he wants information. Unfortunately, one look at him and every human clams up, inching away and refusing to meed his eyes a second time.

Crawly growls in frustration. The first time he’d gotten a good look at himself in a reflective surface he knew the eyes were going to be a problem. They were the same color he’d had in Heaven, honeyed gold, but with slitted serpentine pupils that broadcasted his demonic nature. He’d tried changing them with all the infernal power at his disposal, but all he’d been able to manage was reducing the yellow from taking up his entire eye to just being rounded. The slitted pupils had resisted any and all changes. He'd also giving himself a massive headache for his trouble.

The demon spends almost three hours trying and failing to get even a single human to actually say more than a startled greeting before spotting a familiar head of curly blonde hair. The sight sends a thrill through him and he wastes no time in approaching the angel.

“Hullo, Aziraphale. Fancy seeing you here.”

Crawly approaches from behind him and Aziraphale startles so bad he almost trips over his own feet and Crawly has to grab his elbow to steady him to keep him from falling.

The angel recoils at the touch. “C-Crawly! Wha-what are you, uh, doing here?”

The reaction sends a pang though the demons heart. Of course an angel wouldn’t want a demons fingers all over him.

“Well I felt the power building in the area and figured I’d pop in to see what all the fuss was about.”

Aziraphale makes a show of turning away and not looking at him. “Ah.”

Crawly frowns. The hurt of a moment ago suddenly morphing into concern. Now that he’s close and can get a good look, the angel looks….off somehow. “You alright? You look...” He looks pale, the typical rosiness of his cheeks is gone and his eyes are significantly less bright than they were before, his curls even seem to be droopy. “You look down.”

Aziraphale, pointedly, refuses to look at him, but he does start to worry his hands in his robes, an obvious sign of his stress. “I-I don’t know what you mean.”

He narrows his eyes and stares a bit harder, something is definitely off about the angel. He can’t place what it is, but Aziraphale is less vibrant than he was before, less radiant. He would just open up his more occult senses and take a peak at Aziraphale’s aura, but with all the holiness around he would be lucky to even be able to see the aura at all.

“All right. Well, what’s up with the boat and the animals then? There’s enough power in the air to blow up half the planet.”

Aziraphale bites his lip and steals a sidelong glance. “You haven’t heard?”

Crawly scowls. “Would I be asking if I did? Been over in China. No idea whats going on in this part of the world.”

The angel seems to relax a minuscule amount and nods to himself. “Right.” He looks around, as if expecting someone is watching. “Not much time. Meet me at… at the tavern. In town. One hour.” He disappears into the crowd before Crawly can respond.

He mills around for an hour, killing time by causing minor mischief. It’s so easy to cause a ripple of irritation and annoyance in thickly packed crowds like the one near the boat. By the time Crawly saunters into the tavern it’s just after midday and thick clouds have begun amassing just over the valley. The crackling of celestial energy has started to make his skin itch and the scent of ozone is thick enough to choke on.

Crawly finds Aziraphale tucked away in a far corner of the establishment with his head in his hands.

He plops down across from the angel. “Alright. Spit it out, what the heaven is going on? I’m going to get a rash from all the holiness in air at this rate.”

Aziraphale startles again, his hands coming down onto the table with a thump. “ _Please_ stop sneaking up on me like that.”

Crawly rolls his eyes and motions for the bartender to bring him something. He really doesn’t care what, if he has to put up with what ever is going on here, he might as well be at least tipsy for it. It doesn’t help that Aziraphale is acting so odd, as if hes wound tighter than a spring and ready to snap. Crawly remembered Aziraphale had always been a bit of a nervous angel. Hands constantly fiddling and twitching with his clothes and always seeming like he never quite knew what to say, but he’d never been jumpy. Not even when a demon had slithered up to him on the walls of Eden.

The angel takes a deep breath and clasps his hands together. “Alright, well, you see, some angels, and I think some demons too but I’m not sure about that, have been, well… Bad. Very Bad.”

Crawly raises his eyebrows at this. “Aren’t badly behaving angels just demons anyway?”

Aziraphale gives a quick shake of his head and the bartender sets a jug on the table in front of Crawly. “Well yes, I mean. No… At least, not in this case… Though I think they might be now.” Crawly stops in the middle of drinking straight from the jug and stares. If there was new Fallen after a thousand years, well, that was news. “You see...after the whole… Cain Incident, it was decided that there should be angels stationed here on Earth to protect and guide the humans. Watchers, they called them, all various rankings...” Aziraphale trails off as if lost in a thought before continuing. “But, um… Apparently they got a bit… well… Attached. To some of the human women.”

Crawly stares, open mouthed for a moment. “Wait… You mean to tell me angels… well...” He wiggles his eyebrows in a suggestive manner that is not lost on Aziraphale, who flushes crimson and nods repeatedly. Crawly grimaces. “I mean… I guess I can see demons doing that, not me, but it’s a bit surprising for angels… Was that it? I can’t see why you would want to get with a human myself, but that doesn’t explain all this… energy in the air.”

“Yes well… That’s the thing… While… Knowing a human… Intimately is not exactly condoned, would be an easy remedy. Unfortunately they also had children they call Nephilim and have been teaching the humans about Heavenly technology as well as,” he wiggles his fingers, “magic. Real magic…. Apparently it’s gotten so out of hand that… we can’t just miracle away the knowledge. God said there has to be a cleansing.”

“A cleansing.”

“Yes. God is going to flood the entire valley before the Nephilim and everything else spreads any further.”

Crawly takes a moment, drink momentarily forgotten, to analyze what Aziraphale just said. “Wait… Are you saying God is going to kill everyone!?” He doesn’t mean for his voice to be quite so loud.

“SHHH! Keep your voice down!”

“Well excuse me for being surprised God is actually going to kill everyone this time.” He’s able to keep his voice quiet, but just barely.

“Well… Not everyone. It’s just this valley… And it’s not the _entire_ valley. The family you saw with the boat? They won’t be wiped out. None of them got close to the Watchers or Nephilim so Noah and his family, they are going to be spared.”

“And everyone else?”

Aziraphale presses his lips close together and stares down as his hands on the table. The demon looks around the tavern, eyes landing on a few kids sitting with their families.

“Not kids. You can’t kill the kids.”

Aziraphale just nods and refuses to meet his eyes.

“Oh come on. That’s the kind of thing you’d expect my lot to do. The kids haven’t done anything.”

Aziraphale shakes his head, still not looking at him, but the pained expression is clear on his face. “I… I can’t judge the Almighty, Crawly. It’s not my place.”

“Right, but you could DO something.” This wasn’t right. It couldn’t be right. Angels were supposed to love and protect humanity. That was the who point of Lucifer’s little rebellion. What was the point of it if Heaven and God were just going to kill them anyway?

The angel’s head shoots up, mouth agape. “Absolutely not! That is the Plan and I have to go along with it.”

“Ah, ‘go along with’ so you don’t like it either. Come on! You’re a Cherub for crying out loud! You could save so many people!”

Aziraphale’s lips press into a thin line and gives Crawly a hard look, tension in his shoulders mounting and…? Is that? It was the beginnings of tears in his eyes. “Doesn’t matter what I like or dislike. I’m putting myself at risk for even telling you in the first place. I-” A sudden crack of thunder cuts him off and Aziraphale stands quickly. “I need to go. Ordered to be on the boat with Noah, keeping the animals in check. I would suggest getting out of here as soon as possible.” Aziraphale rushes out the door with not so much as a ‘goodbye’ to the demon.

He just doesn’t get it. Aziraphale is powerful. Perhaps not as powerful as a Seraph or an Archangel, but he could still save people! Could at least save the children. He would just miracle them a safe distance away! It shouldn’t even be that difficult! And why did the angel look so sad when he brought it up?

Crawly growls under his breath, magics up enough coin to cover the wine he never finished, and lurches out the door after Aziraphale. He’s not about to let this conversation be over. The angel is already a ways ahead of him, but Crawly is fast and can weave his way between crowds with ease. By the time he catches up to the angel, rain has just begun to fall and the looming facade of Noah’s boat is dark and ominous.

“Hold on-” Crawly grabs at Aziraphale’s shoulder as he reaches him. He had intended to try and get the angel to slow down a second, he never expected to have Aziraphale’s hand clamp down on the offending appendage in a vice grip, or to suddenly be flying through the air over the angels shoulder and onto the ground on his back in front of him. The impact knocks the breath from his lungs and he’s sure that if he was a regular mortal he would have a few cracked, if not broken, vertebrae.

Crawly cracks his eyes open. “Ow.”

Aziraphale releases him to cover his mouth with his hands, horrified. “O-oh. Oh I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean. I mean. Oh.”

Crawly doesn’t get a chance to tell him its fine, that he’s not really hurt, that he just wanted to talk, because Aziraphale disappears, leaving behind an even stronger smell of ozone.

Crawly continues to lay in the dirt that is quickly turning to mud in the rain, rubbing at the wrist Aziraphale had grabbed. It’s already starting to bruise.

He has to force himself to get moving and stand up. He doesn’t know what the devil is going on with Aziraphale, but the rain is quickly getting heavier and he needs to move fast if any of these humans are going to have a chance.

With a burst of power he manifests his wings. He knows he can’t save everyone, even when he was a full Archangel he would have paled in comparison to the amount of power that’s been gathered here, but he has to try.

**\- Aziraphale**

Aziraphale appears on the deck of the Ark, quite literally, out of thin air. Dropping to his knees and almost passing out at the sharp pain that sears through him. Ever since his punishment and subsequent demotion anything larger than minor miracles was cause for pain that only got worse the more power he used.

That had gone _horribly_. With so much holy energy and the impending flood, he hadn’t expected to see any demons, let alone that specific demon. He also hadn’t expected to react like that.

He knew it shouldn’t bother him. Crawly was a demon. They shouldn’t have even been having a conversation, and yet he felt horrid about throwing him onto the ground like that. He hadn’t meant to. It was just a… a reaction. A reflex.

Aziraphale closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths to calm his still rapidly beating heart. The rain had already soaked through his clothes and plastered his hair to his head. By the time he opened his eyes you couldn’t even tell it was midday. The clouds were so dark and thick and the rain was coming in sheets. The ground had been miracled to disallow any absorption and already the waters were steadily climbing.

He knew he wouldn’t be able to handle standing out here once the water got to high to just stand in. The people would panic and he didn’t have the heart to listen to their screams.

Aziraphale turned to head inside the hull, keeping the animals calm would hopefully be enough of a distraction from the horrors going on around him, but a dark spot in a flash of lightning caught his eye. He had to wait for another lightning strike to get a better look, but when he did his breath caught in his throat. Even at this distance he could clearly make out the shape of wings. There was only one person it could possibly be. No other demons were dumb enough to get caught in this, and the only other angels in the area were above the clouds, supplying the storm. It was Crawly. It had to be Crawly.

Another flash of light and Crawly was closer. He was headed this way. Aziraphale waited and watched in little snippets of time and Crawly flew ever nearer. By the time Aziraphale could see him clearly enough with out the aid of lightning, Crawly was was flying impossibly fast over the Ark.

“I’ll do something when you can’t, Angel!” Crawly’s voice barely carried over the wind and rain and thunder. He didn’t stop at the Ark, just kept flying, but in that brief moment Aziraphale saw a sight he almost couldn’t believe.

Crawly had been carrying an entire gaggle of children. Four wrapped in his arms, two on his back, and another whos arms had been wrapped around his waist.

Aziraphale fell to his knees and wept. Crawly was saving children when Aziraphale couldn’t, but oh how he wished he could. He didn’t have the power Crawly thought he had anymore. Gabriel had made sure of that. His powers had been suppressed and he’d been demoted to barely above a regular angel. He was just a Principality now, and low ranking one at that. He didn’t have the power to save those children, but Crawly did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was originally going to ignore everything to do with the Watcher/Nephilim situation, but the flood is completely stupid and unnecessary without them. I also found some fun Raphael lore that has to do with the Watchers which will show up next chapter.
> 
> The fancy line-break is my art! Do not use without permission!


	9. There's a First Time for Everything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS LATE I'M SORRY!!!! This chapter fought me all the way through, but It's extra long so.... enjoy?

**\- Crawly**

The first time Crawly prayed he hadn’t even realized he was doing it until it was over. He’d just dropped off the only children he’d been able to save from the rising waters. A few minor pushes with his powers and no one would even know those children didn’t already belong with their new families. It was the least he could do for them. He then flung himself back into the air, found the tallest mountain on Earth, and screamed. He screamed at the sky until his voice was raw and broken and then kept on screaming some more besides.

He’d been able to keep himself together while he flew the kids as far away from their home valley as he could. It had been easy to ignore the pain, betrayal, heartbreak, and rage while focusing all his powers on keeping them calm and safe. But now that he was alone, the dam had broken and wasn’t about to be fixed any time soon.

Sure, he’d figured him and the others had deserved to be cast out. He hadn’t liked it, and it had hurt, but there had been that unspoken law, a thing they all knew: Do Not Question The Almighty. He, and they, had questioned so he, and they, were cast out. The rules had been broken and punishment had followed. Easy. Simple. Understandable. The memo had been received in fire and sulfur and burning and he had accepted it. Besides, being a damned wasn’t so bad, once you got use to it. He didn’t have to answer to anyone like he did before. The rules were more loose. He could do as he pleased, for the most part, and as long as human souls got even a little tarnished no one cared what else he did.

The Garden of Eden had been much the same. Yes the humans really hadn’t had a snowballs chance in Hell, but the rules, regardless of how dumb they were, had been clear: Don’t eat from The Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. Though it almost felt like She set them up to fail. It wasn’t Crawly’s fault that he just so happened to be the one to give the push. He still wasn’t convinced he had played right into Her plan. It was just so obvious. How could anyone not see it? Though that then begged the question of who, if not her Fallen Angels, would have tempted the humans into disobeying? And maybe She had wanted, no Expected, them to Fall… And that was an entire different can of worms that Crawly wasn’t entirely ready to open, but the mere thought of it made him want to rip his own hair out and swallow his tongue in frustration.

This though? This flood? It wasn’t the same. It wasn’t like the other times. This wasn’t a punishment for a wrong doing. It was murder. Plain and simple. This was God sanctioning the destruction of innocent peoples lives just because She didn’t like the outcome of Her own decisions. If it had just been the angels, Her ‘Watchers’, being punished? Okay, sure, that would have been fine. He could have dealt with that. He couldn’t deal with this. This was something you would expect Hell to do. Heaven was supposed to be better. Heaven was supposed to be good.

When he finally ran out of energy to scream, he fell kneeling into the snow topped mountain, face buried in the white cold powder, wings spread out around him. The empty hole that’s been with him since The Fall deepens and widens with every sob ripped from his lips.

“Why? Why did you do it? They didn’t do anything wrong. They were just kids. You’re supposed to be better. I thought you were better. WHY? WHY AREN’T YOU BETTER?”

The wind howls around him in response. He doesn’t think he actually expected, or wanted, Her to answer him, but the resounding lack of acknowledgment hurts all the same.

He doesn’t know how long he he stays on the mountain, but he does finally stand, face streaked with tears and shivering. He has to shake the ice and snow from his wings before he can take flight again.

It’s a few years before Crawly can even think of going back to Mesopotamia without wanting to break something. And he _does_ think about returning, often. A certain Angel was last seen there and Crawly still has unanswered questions. Questions about how stricken Aziraphale had looked when he told him what was going on. How jumpy the angel had been. How he obviously hadn’t liked the situation anymore than Crawly did. So why did he not _do_ anything? He was a Cherub! He should have been more than capable of weaving a spell of calm over the animals on the boat and saving kids at the same time. Hell, Aziraphale had looked so damned ashamed of himself when Crawly had flown over him with the kids. He was capable of helping and he had wanted to help, so something must have kept him helping. Right?

So for the first time since his Fall, Crawly goes out of his way to seek out Aziraphale.

**\- Aziraphale - 3010 BC**

He didn’t expect to see Crawly in the little backwater village, but there he is. Waving and grinning and looking so very beautiful with his long wavy red hair. Aziraphale struggles to understand why the demon would seem so happy to see him. He might not have smited the demon when he should have and he didn’t regret warning him about the flood, but that didn’t mean they could act friendly! They weren’t friends! Aziraphale had just been showing the demon professional courtesy. That was all.

He really does feel foolish when the sight of the demon drawing nearer causes him to panic and miracle himself to the next village over.

He knows he over reacted the moment the sharp, stabbing pain that follows large miracles now sends him to his knees. He’s just lucky there were no humans around to notice, they do get ever so excited when miraculous feats are performed in front of them.

The second time Crawly tries to approach him is in a crowded town market square just a month after the first time. Aziraphale is less panicked this time, so he doesn’t try to miracle himself away, but he does rush into the throngs of people, zigzagging between merchant stalls and their customers. But when he stops to breathe and check to see if the demon was following, the only evidence that Crawly had been there at all is the lingering scent of brimstone where Aziraphale had last seen him.

Three months later Aziraphale is enjoying the shade and comfort of a bar three towns over from where he saw Crawly last. He’d been working himself up to trying some of the food. The other angels turn their noses up at ‘gross matter’, but Aziraphale thinks it all smells so lovely and it must taste good if the humans keep ingesting it. The duck stew smells especially wonderful and he just about asks the proprietor if he could order some, when who should appear but the Demon Crawly.

Aziraphale freezes in his seat and his eyes dart around looking for another exit. There is none. The demon has him cornered. He can’t miracle himself away without raising the suspicion of the locals or causing himself pain, the bar isn’t nearly packed enough to hide among the people, and Crawly is standing in front of the only door.

His heart jolts when Crawly’s yellow serpentine eyes land on him and he knows the demon knows he has him trapped. He’s certain Crawly is going to approach him and the thought of possibly getting caught sitting at the same table as a demon is both chilling and thrilling, though the chill wins out by a wide margin.

However, Crawly just raises his eyebrows, nods in Aziraphale’s direction, then takes a seat on the exact opposite end of the business. Aziraphale watches the proprietor take Crawly’s order as the demon lounges and makes himself quite comfortable.

Aziraphale just sits there for a moment, not entirely sure what is going on. Crawly had been trying to approach him for months! But now that he actually had his chance, he was… backing off? It was odd and against all of Aziraphale’s expectations. Had Crawly perhaps gotten the hint? That Aziraphale didn’t want the demon to approach him? And if he did, what did that say about Crawly that he would respect that?

Aziraphale leaves quite quickly after that thought, not daring to spare a glance back at the demon.

The thing is, despite knowing he shouldn’t want anything at all to do with Crawly, there is a non insubstantial part of Aziraphale that feels bad for running away from the demon like he has been. It’s not like they even have anything in common to talk about anyway!… Though that really isn’t true, is it? Despite Aziraphale’s own, mental, protests, him and Crawly actually _do_ seem to have a few points of common interest. On the wall they both had expressed a concern over whether their actions were what they were supposed to be doing. Crawly had even comforted him! Though looking back at it Aziraphale might have missed the sarcasm, a demon saying an angel can’t do wrong and being sincere about it would be a bit rich. It had comforted him all the same, though. Then just a few years ago at the flood Crawly seemed just as uncomfortable with The Watchers actions as Aziraphale had and had even expressed concern for the humans! Not to mention saving them! Demons weren’t supposed to love humanity, that’s why they got cast out after all, but Crawly seemed to love them, or at least care enough to be concerned and that _had_ to count for something, didn’t it?

Aziraphale ends up wandering the town for hours, lost in his thoughts and trying to reason with himself. He might also have been hoping Crawly would show up again. When he doesn’t, Aziraphale heaves a sigh and tries in vain to remind himself that wanting the company of a demon is not something a self-respecting angel would _ever_ want. It’s not a very strong thought though, and even his usual mantra of ‘what would Raphael think!?’ had started to sound hollow. The only thought that keeps Aziraphale from marching right back to that bar, sitting down across from the demon, and demanding to know what he was playing at is how he might be punished for being so casual with the enemy.

So lost in his own thoughts, Aziraphale doesn’t notice the two demonic presences following him until the one is right on top of him.

**\- Crawly**

After the first two times that Aziraphale ran away from him, Crawly is understandably frustrated. He’d tried his best to seem non-threatening and had even put in an effort to not surprise or startle Aziraphale. The first time was obviously a compete bust, but he thought he had it on the second.

The third time he planned. He planned and he waited and he watched, because he was _going_ to talk to Aziraphale. So when finally, _finally_ , Aziraphale walks into a somewhat crowded bar with only one door, Crawly _knows_ he has him. No escape this time! They are going to _talk_ and Crawly is going to get _answers_.

Only, the second their gazes lock, Aziraphale suddenly has the look of prey that’s just been cornered by a very big predator. It’s enough to give him pause. He realizes, in that moment, that it might actually be a very bad idea to stalk and corner an angel like he has just done. And forcing said angel to interact with him might just dash any amount of positive feelings and end with him very much on the wrong end of a smiting. Actually, it’s a wonder the angel hadn’t smited him already.

So, instead of forcing the issue, Crawly takes a seat as far from Aziraphale and the door as he can.

He sees the angels eyes widen and his jaw go slack. Ah, so he _had_ expected Crawly to force him. He watches the gears in Aziraphale’s head begin to turn and takes this rare moment of Aziraphale not running as fast as he can to open his occult senses and perhaps suss out what exactly is going on.

What he sees fills Crawly with a burning rage the like of which he has never felt before. He’d felt anger before, absolutely. Anger at God most recently, anger at himself for temptations gone wrong, anger at humans for just being awful to each without any demonic intervention at all. This goes beyond loathing, beyond anger, beyond even rage perhaps and right into full on Wrath. And his blood is boiling with it.

What he sees is Aziraphale’s angelic soul, his very essence, what makes him who he is as an angel, twisted and contorted in a way that is almost sickening. Aziraphale’s aura should have been a multi-headed, multi-winged, massive chunk of holiness that engulfed the entire establishment. As it was, Crawly could _see_ all those pieces there, but they were contained and shoved down and sealed away. Crawly would have to get closer to really examine the seal that had been placed to keep Aziraphale’s powers suppressed, if the angel would ever allow him that close in the first place.

He’s glad that Aziraphale doesn’t turn around to look at him when he leaves since he probably looks like he wants to commit murder. He feels like he wants to commit murder. Crawly’s never actually killed anything before, nor has he wanted to, but right now he’s damn sure that if one of the higher ranking angels were to show up they would be met with a face full of hellfire.

Crawly probably would have fumed in that bar for many more hours to come had a strange demonic presence not popped up close by. Crawly wasn’t the only demon on Earth, far from it, but this presence was a powerful one, on par with a Duke of Hell.

Which was… odd. Crawly knew all the Dukes and this presence wasn’t one he recognized.

He leaves the bar swiftly, scattering a few coins on the table for the drink he barely touched.

Under normal circumstances Crawly wouldn’t be concerned. Dukes are close in power to Dominions which a Cherub like Aziraphale would have no problem in holding off, but with his powers bound and suppressed the way they are, Crawly fears the angel would be easy pickings.

As a snake, Crawly is already built for speed and weaving around obstacles and with the barest of demonic intervention he practically flies over the ground. Sandaled feet barely touching the dirt laid streets.

The streets are slowly emptying, not due to any miraculous influence but because the sun has begun to set. Crawly stops in a darkened alcove to watch as he comes up on the demonic and angelic auras. Aziraphale has his hands worried in his robes as usual and his head bowed deep in thought as he slowly makes has down the street, but the demon Crawly knows is nearby has yet to show himself.

The Serpent of Eden grinds his teeth as he waits. The other demons aura is too large to pinpoint its location, but Crawly knows they have to be close.

Aziraphale makes a sudden turn down an alley and Crawly holds his breath, shielding his own aura as much as possible when a darkened shadow creeps after the angel. _Got ya_.

Crawly slinks after the shadow, waiting around the corner of the alley and listening hard.

“Aziraphale.” The voice is ragged and low and followed by a yelp and a thud.

Crawly tenses but doesn’t move.

“Wh-who are you?” He can taste the fear and uncertainty in the angels voice, but he isn’t in danger… yet.

“Don’t you remember me? We got on so well in Heaven.” The demons voice is sickeningly sweet with an undercurrent of malice.

“I-I’m so sorry… I don’t-”

The demon scoffs. “Doesn’t matter now, really. Not since you BETRAYED US!” The subsequent cry from Aziraphale and loud thud gets Crawly moving into the alley.

The demon is a hideous half-man half-goat creature with spiraling horns around his head. He has Aziraphale pinned against a wall and is snarling into his face. Crawly dashes down the alley, boosting his speed and strength with demonic power as he slams his shoulder into the opposing demons side as hard as he can. The goat-man goes stumbling back and Crawly situates himself between it and Aziraphale.

“Alright, angel?” He throws over his shoulder, never taking his eyes of the other demon who is already growling and snarling while Aziraphale gapes at him like a fish.

“Who do you think you are!? That angel is _mine_.”

Crawly threads his fingers together and stretches his arms out in front of himself, letting his shoulders and back pop loudly enough for everyone to hear. “Yeah, you see, that’s real cute and all, but you’re a bit to weak to own an angel of his caliber.”

The demon howls in rage and charges. Crawly was never a fighter and in The First War he’d been pathetic at best, but millennia as a Fallen Angel has taught him a few things. Crawly meets the other demon half way, grabbing onto his horns and spinning him around. Once the demons back is to him he allows his fingers to extend into claws, shoving them into the middle of his back. His opponent howls and screams and kicks with his hooved feet, but Crawly is pushing him forward crowding him against the far wall.

With the other demons chest pressed to the wall he pulls his head back by the horn. “Now why don’t you tell me who you are and what you want with the angel?”

He gets a string of incoherent profanity in place of an actual answer.

Crawly sighs and slams the demons face in to the wall before him. The profanity promptly stops and he pulls the other demons head back to where it began, blood dripping from his nose and mouth. “So, Aziraphale, you were saying you didn’t know this demon?”

He hears the angels shuffling approach. “The voice is familiar...” A snap next to his ear is the only warning Crawly gets before a blinding ball of light is hovering just above his head.

He hisses over his shoulder at the angel. “Warn a guy next time.”

“My apologies, dear boy.” He didn’t actually sound sorry. Aziraphale is next to him now, leaning over to examine the captured demon.

The goat-man struggles against him and Crawly can feel the challenge to his demonic will. Crawly shoves back with a growl, summoning up more power. The smell of brimstone thick in the air. “Not goin’ anywhere.” He spares a glance at Aziraphale who is looking at him with concern in his blue eyes. “Well do you know the fucker or not?”

Aziraphale bits his lip and nods slowly. “He was a Watcher… Asael...”

That one words sends the demon into a frenzy. Thrashing violently against Crawly’s hold he manages to turn his head towards Aziraphale. “IT’S AZAZEL NOW!” Spittle and blood flying from his mouth and his blue goat eyes wide and frantic.

Crawly snarls and slams his face against the wall again. “Careful there, angel, demons don’t like to be called their old name.”

Aziraphale nods. “Right. Of course not.” But his gaze is far away, deep in thought.

Crawly looks between ‘Azazel’ and Aziraphale. “Well, angel, did he hurt you at all?”

Aziraphale blinked rapidly at him. “I-I’m sorry?”

The demon sighed. “I asked you earlier if he hurt you, but you just looked at me like a fish out of water. Are. You. Hurt.”

“Oh!” Aziraphale reached around and rubbed the back of his head, his fingers coming away red. “Oh dear. I didn’t think my head hit the wall that hard.”

The anger and wrath he’d felt earlier was bubbling back to the surface, only now he had something to direct it at. “Well then, that was a bad choice on your part, Azazel.” The other demon let out a choked gasp as Crawly removed his clawed fingers from the flesh of his back. With a snap of his fingers Azazel’s hands were bound behind his back and a cloth gag around his mouth.

“Crawly what-”

“I’m going to deal with him. Be right back, so don’t go far, yeah?”

The angel can only gape as Crawly manifests his wings and flies into the air, holding onto the captured demon via horn and bound hands.

Azazel writhes and squirms and tries in vain to scream around the gag as Crawly flies them over the village towards the massive desert in the west. He’s already formulating an idea of what he’s going to do to this particular demon. He can’t just discorporate him, he’ll just get a new body from Hell and possibly go bothering Aziraphale again. Not to mention if Hell gets wind of him saving the angel he’s sure to get flack, First Tempter status or not. Well, there is _one_ way to keep a demon out of Hell and keep him from tormenting anyone on Earth.

He flies west for hours over desolate and uninhabited rocky desert. The temperature had been dropping fast ever since the sun set and the cool air felt wonderful on his wings that still phantom burn from time to time.

The moon is high in the night sky before Crawly finally begins his descent, dropping Azazel to the ground from a few feet above. As soon as he hits earth, the demon struggles against his bonds, wiggling and flailing around on the dirt. Crawly sneers. “Pathetic. And to think, you have the power of a Duke. No actual Duke of Hell would be caught dead writhing on the ground like a worm.” He magics the gag away as an after thought, the only humans out this far are a few nomadic tribes who know better than to go investigating strange screaming in the night.

Azazel snarls as soon as he is able. “Who do you think you are!? How dare you keep me from my vengeance!”

Crawly kicks the demon onto his back and plants his foot in the middle of his chest. “Yeah, ya see, normally I’d be all about vengeance. You just happened to pick the wrong angel.” He digs his heel into the prone demons sternum as he bends over, taking a single grain of sand between his thumb and index finger. “And I can’t let you return to Hell and blab to everyone about what happened tonight. I _do_ have a reputation to maintain, after all.” He rolls the grain of sand around in his fingers, feeling it heat up with demonic energy. Now, I imagine this is going to hurt. Never experienced it myself, but I hope it hurts.”

The former Watcher only gets a second to prepare before Crawly extends his free hand and squeezes. The scream ripped from his lungs in blood curdling, but cuts off quickly when Crawly _pulls_.

Under normal circumstances when a demon, or angel, is discorporated their souls are sucked right back to which ever place they are aligned to. Crawly holds onto Azazel’s soul despite the distinct pull ‘downwards’. It’s a slimy wriggling thing with multiple spiraling horns and too many blue goat eyes.

“Urg. What gives? Why is every demon slimy? Am I the only one who bathes?”

Azazel doesn’t answer, not in any way physical ears could hear anyway, but the angry pulsing would be impossible to misunderstand. Crawly grits his teeth against the sensation of actually holding onto the corrupted demonic essence. Demons don’t touch each other as a general rule with few exceptions and touching the essence of a demon is a viscerally unpleasant sensation. He can feel Azazel trying to wiggle out of his grasp and exert his demonic will, to force Crawly to release him. Crawly ignores how it feels like Azazel is dripping all over his hand and up his arm and holds on tighter.

The grain of sand in his other hand thrums with power and magic and Crawly closes his eyes and concentrates on it. Visualizing every bump and grove in his minds eye and he draws. He etches various lines, circles, and sigils upon the grain of sand. So microscopic it would take centuries for humans too develop the technology to see them. As the etching appears on the sand Crawly circles is with the hand holding Azazel over and over and over again, wrapping the demon in the liminal space between the atoms of the tiny rock.

Beads of sweat from on Crawly’s brow from his levels of concentration. Everything has to be perfect. One wrong line or missing sigil and Azazel will sucked right back to Hell.

Crawly falls to his knees gasping when the last of Azazel’s soul is bound to the sand. With trembling hands he holds the grain up to his eyes. If he looks hard he can see the twisted and stretched form of Azazel screaming in pain, but even at arms length the soul has been twisted and compressed enough to be almost non-existent.

He flicks the grain of sand into the air. It flies for a short time, landing among thousands of almost identical pieces. Crawly dusts himself off and shakes the sand from his wings before taking flight again.

It will take a few hours to return to the village, if Aziraphale is even still there. He feels bad for leaving the angel like that, for letting his anger get the better of him. He knows he’ll have to come up with an excuse for why he saved him but hopefully, _hopefully_ , Aziraphale will see now that Crawly isn’t out to hurt him. He knows they will never have what they had in Heaven, what ever _it_ was, that gentle familiarity, the easy touches, but if the angel would just stop running from him they could have _something_. Acquaintanceship, friendship, he’ll take what ever Aziraphale will give him and be glad they have that much.

The sun is rising over the village when Crawly returns, humans already out and about going about their day. He’s surprised to still sense Aziraphale there. He has to land outside a ways away and walk in, but he allows the feeling of Aziraphale’s essence to guide him in and through the village, finding his way back to the bar where they met yesterday.

Aziraphale waiting for him here means something. He can feel it. What exactly it means, however, is lost on him.

The bar is quiet this early in the day, only a few patrons sit around the low tables, and Aziraphale has taken up his previous seat. He’s watching the door when Crawly enters and when their eyes meet it’s relief that settles on Aziraphale instead of the fear like before.

Crawly has to take a steadying breath before approaching. Without the adrenaline/anger/frustration fueling him like earlier the casual setting of the bar sets his nerves alight. “Mind if I join you?”

Aziraphale sighs softly. “Might as well, I suppose.”

Crawly nods once and sits across from the angel. The silence between them is thick and awkward, hanging over the table with too many unspoken things.

He can feel Aziraphale staring at him, searching. Crawly refuses to meet his gaze, choosing instead to stare at the table, picking at the wood grain with a fingernail.

Aziraphale breaks the silence first, his voice barely heard even in the quiet of the bar. “What happened to As-Azazel?”

“He won’t bother you anymore, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

The angel sighs. “Crawly-”

“How’s your head?”

Aziraphale blinks. “My… head?”

“Yeah. There was,” Crawly waves his hands around, “There was blood.”

“Oh!” Aziraphale reaches to the back of his head. “Just a scratch. Head wounds always look worse than they are.”

Crawly suddenly gets the feeling he might have over reacted. Just a bit. “Right.” He tries to fight back the warming of his cheeks and looks everywhere but at the angel in front of him. “Good. So. Why was that Watcher after you, anyway?”

Aziraphale suddenly looked very worried and very guilty. “Do you really have to know?”

Crawly shrugs. “You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to, but it would be nice to know what exactly I might get in trouble in Hell over.”

The angle looked stricken. “You’re going to get into trouble!?”

Crawly waved his hand flippantly. “I mean, it’s unlikely anyone in Hell will find out I… well, stopped a Watcher from getting at one of the enemy, but if they did they wouldn’t be too happy.”Not to mention he didn’t exactly have the authority to be doling out punishments.

Aziraphale wrings his hands and sighs. “Well, if you have to know, I was the one who… told Heaven.”

“Told Heaven…?”

“About the Watchers. What they were doing. I wasn’t technically one of them, but As-Azazel, we were in the same squad… before I was demoted to Principality.”

“Wait wait wait… You were demoted?”

Aziraphale huffs and his shoulders instantly go taunt. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Angel-”

“I don’t want to talk about it!” The angel shrinks back, wrapping his arms around himself. “I don’t want to talk about any of it! But you asked, so I’ll tell you about Azazel. But that’s it! I just-”

No no no, angel, it’s fine. Forget I asked. Azazel?” Aziraphale cowering, scared, tense, it hurts the demons heart to see the angel like that.

Aziraphale seems to come back, just bit. “Right. Well. I saw what was happening, and I told Azazel. I told him it was wrong. What they were doing was _wrong_. The humans were hurting. But he wouldn’t listen to me. So, I went to a higher authority. Heaven had no idea what the Watchers were doing, what was going on. At first no one would listen to me. They just brushed me off. Eventually I had to go to Michael. She listened. She… She investigated. Of course Azazel was… upset. I betrayed his trust, but I couldn’t just let them continue! I had to do something!” Aziraphale was almost shaking by the end of his story.

“No, yes, of course you did. Angel, listen to me, Azazel was a prick, obviously. You did the right thing.”

Aziraphale stares with unfallen tears in his eyes. “You mean that?”

“Course I do.” He didn’t mean to sound so sincere, but with Aziraphale looking so upset he couldn’t help it. And the angel just continued to stare as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

Luckily for Crawly, the bars owner saves him from further embarrassment by asking if either of them want food or drink. Aziraphale politely declines while Crawly requests wine.

As soon as the barkeep leaves Aziraphale twists his hands together and looks around, almost as if expecting someone to pounce at them, before speaking. “Er… Do you do that often?”

“Do what, exactly, angel?”

Aziraphale gives him a pained look. “Consume food… drink… that sort of thing. Not like we _need_ it, you know.”

Crawly looks at him full on now, arms folding over the table and leaning in, studying the angel who looks more than a little sheepish. “Food? Not often. Only when I’m feeling it. Drink? Oh yes. Alcohol is the best thing humans have ever invented. Why? Haven’t you ever…?”

Aziraphale tore his gaze away from the demon quickly. “Absolutely not! As an Angel of The Almighty I do not sully the temple of my celestial body with… gross… matter...” Although starting out strong, the angel’s conviction peters out towards the end.

“Oi, barkeep! Some nibbles too, if you don’t mind. Something simple.” The barkeep, who had been on his way back to them with Crawly’s wine when Crawly called out, glared for a moment before sighing and retrieving a wooden plate with bread and cheese.

Though the food had been set in front of Crawly, he gently pushed it across the table towards Aziraphale. “The bread and cheese are meant to be eaten together, at the same time.”He pointed out each food item in turn. “Probably be a bit a bland, but should be a good starter. Don’t want to be like me. Almost choked to discorporation on something called wasabi while I was far to the east.”

Aziraphale looked from the food, to the demon, and back to the food. “I’m not sure-”

“Come on, angel. It’s just food. Just try some.”

The angel frowned and narrowed his eyes. “Are you trying to tempt me, demon?”

Crawly groaned and slumped in his seat before taking a long drink of wine. It was a bit too sweet for his tastes, but alcohol was alcohol. “Yes? No? Kind of? Listen, is it really temptation if it’s something you already want to do?” Aziraphale continued to frown, but the suspicious look had diminished somewhat. “Look. There’s nothing wrong with enjoying food. The Almighty put it here to be enjoyed, yeah? So, whats wrong with, you know, enjoying?”

“But I don’t need it.”

“Of course you don’t. It’s not about need. It’s… look. Have you done anything on Earth that you didn’t _have_ to do but liked anyway?”

Aziraphale went deep in thought for a moment. “Well… I suppose I enjoy bathing. Gives you a good clean feeling.” Crawly nodded encouragingly. “A-and listening to them tell stories to one another is fun. Oh! Did you know they’ve started making alphabets? Some of the larger cities have entire buildings dedicated to writing! They write their histories and myths and legends. I’ve gotten the chance to read some of it and it’s wonderful.”

Crawly couldn’t help but smile at how Aziraphale suddenly lit up. “There you go. See? Nothing wrong with enjoying any of that. ‘S why it’s there.” He pushed the plate just a little close to the angel with the tip of his finger. “Nothing wrong with trying food either. Just a bite. If you don’t like it for what ever reason, I won’t bring it up again. Hmm?”

Aziraphale still looked uncertain, but tentativelyreached for the offered food. Crawly, feeling a job well done, reclined back once more and took another long drink of wine as Aziraphale brought the bread to his mouth.

Crawly choked on his wine at the absolutely _indecent_ noise that escaped Aziraphale as soon as the bread was in his mouth. He’d only ever heard moans like that when he’d pushing humans into more… intimate situations with each other. He stared at the angel who looked enraptured as he chewed. Crawly was beginning to think he must have imagined it, when Aziraphale went for a second slice of bread and cheese and there was that noise again.

The demon cleared his throat. “Erm, well. You seem to… like it, then?”

Aziraphale nodded vigorously. “Oh yes. It’s… its _good_.”

“Right. Good. See? Told ya.”

Crawly was much more careful of when he took a drink for the remainder of their time in the bar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, I just find it VERY FUNNY if Crowley's first attempt at eating almost choked him to death because he's an idiot and stuck his tongue in some wasabi.
> 
> The fancy line-break is my art! Do not use without permission!


	10. A Tale of Two Cities Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super sorry for the lack of updates! Writers block as well as IRL issues had me putting off writing for a lot longer than I like.
> 
> This chapter marks, what i feel, is the first major divergence from canon. Also, this chapter and the next are going to be focusing on Sodom and Gomorrah and the bible story surrounding them, however I'm doing a slightly different take on 'The Wicked Cities' than is considered mainstream. There is a slightly spoilerly explanation for all this in the end notes.

**\- 2085 BC -**

Crawly hated having to return to Hell. It’s crowded, damp, and constantly changing between too hot and too cold on a schedule only one being in the whole of creation understands and She’s not telling. The Hell summoning happened as it usually did, with a sudden and incessant tug in a downwards direction that would get progressively more intolerable the longer he ignored it until the ground itself decided to surge up and swallow him whole. He’s only let it get that far once and the tongue lashing from Beelzebub had not been worth the extra hour topside.

He arrives in Hell amid damned human souls shuffling aimlessly through the tunnels. None of them even acknowledge his arrival and Crawly has to shove and elbow his way between them to get anywhere. He knows he should be thankful Hell doesn’t actually have any set-in-stone geography and all he has to do it think real hard about where he wants to be to get there, but it’s a monumental task to be thankful for anything when even the meeting room he finds himself in smells of a potent mixture of sulfur, body odor, and feces.

The only demons present when he arrives are Beelzebub, Dagon, Hastur, and Ligur. The two dukes kneeling at the Lord of Flies feet while Dagon stands nearby, scratching out notes on dirty parchment.

“How fairzzz the cityzzz?” Beelzebub, as usual, looked wholly disinterested in the conversation and was focused on picking dirt or grime out of their fingernails while large black flies circled their head. It might have taken over a millennium, but almost all demons now stuck with their human looking forms over their demonic ones.

Ligur lifted his head. “Perfect, m’lord. The humans murder and steal and defile each other with almost no prompting from us anymore.”

“Mmm. And how many humanzzz have been corrupted?”

It was Hastur who responded this time. “All of ‘em, I’d say. Don’t last long if they aren’t.”

Beelzebub nodded noncommittally. “Good. Continue to monitor progreszz. You are dizmizzzed.”

The two dukes rose, bowed, and noticed Crawly standing at the back of the room as they turned. “Well well, if it isn’t Craaaaawly.” Hastur sneered while Ligur lurked behind him sneering.

Crawly clenched his teeth. He hated how Hastur said his name. Hated how he drew it out like an insult. He never wanted to change his name more than when Hastur used it, though knowing the duke it wouldn’t change anything. Both dukes had hated him since getting them in trouble with Beelzebub early on and that hatred had only grown when he got his ‘special’ assignment from Lord Satan himself.

“Dukes Hastur and Ligur-”

“Were juzzt leaving.”

Crawly snaps his mouth shut with a click. He’s gotten away with as much as he has by not being a nuisance to the prince. Besides, it wouldn't do to get on Beelzebub’s bad side. They have an ‘understanding’ after all: Crawly doesn’t make a bid for the Prince of Hell’s position and openly supports them and in exchange he only gets assigned important ‘high profile’ jobs. Crawly knows he could take the Prince of Hell’s position if he really wanted it. Knows Beelzebub knows it too. Their agreement is one of convenience. Crawly wants the freedom to do what he wants, and Beelzebub gets the guarantee of a powerful ally should anyone challenge their authority. It’s a win-win and as close to having allies as a demon can get with other demons.

The two dukes shoulder check him as they pass to continue with their own assignments. Crawly grinds his teeth but takes the disrespect with his head held high. He might have been given immense power from Satan, but when he refused an official title Crawly sentenced himself to being considered a lowly ‘normal’ demon and unless he makes a bid for an actual political position he’ll just have to put up with being looked down on by the masses.

Crawly is fairly certain he knows what their meeting with Beelzebub was about, he’d heard Hastur bragging last time he was in Hell about how him and Ligur had influenced the entirety of Sodom and Gomorrah to wicked ways. It was a pet project, an experiment, to see just how far humans as a group could be lead away from the path of righteousness. Crawly had never visited the cities himself, but if the rumors were true the answer was quite far indeed. Murdering and torturing foreigners, cruelty to the homeless and down trodden, exorbitant taxes, and the blatant disregard for hospitality was just the tip of the iceberg. If you wanted sin and wickedness, Sodom and Gomorrah was the place to be.

He waited until he was certain Hastur and Ligur were long gone before approaching Beelzebub’s rotten throne. He spread his arms out wide as he bowed. “Prince Beelzebub, to what do I owe the displeasure of your summons?”

“Demon Crawly, I havvve an azzzignment for you. It will require your… utmozzt dizzcretion.” Beelzebub wasn’t pretending to be disinterested anymore, instead they gripped the arms of their throne and leaned toward him, black eyes gleaming.

Discretion? Well that was new. “Shouldn’t be a problem. Not a snake for nothing, discretion is practically my middle name.”

Their black eyes narrowed at him. “We have come acrozz… information that the Hostzzz of Heaven are giving zzpecial attention to a human man, Abraham. You are to zzzzituate yourzzzelf into hizzz houzzzzzehold and discover why. We have reazon to believe they are up to zzomething.”

Getting himself a spot in a humans house shouldn’t be too difficult, but if this man was getting visitors from Upstairs he’d have to stay on guard.

“Consider it done.”

It only took a little bit of asking around for Crawly to discover that Abraham and his family were nomads in Canaan, apparently known for being hospitable to strangers as well as being wealthy with livestock and slaves.

He had to be sneaky about this. If the guy really was being visited by angels he couldn’t just show up looking all demony. Crawly ran his hands through his long hair, mussing it just enough to look unkempt then ran his fingers over his face. Everywhere he touched wrinkles and age spots sprouted. He then got rid of his sandals and tore and dirtied his clothes. The next step was one he was apprehensive about, but it would sell the look. With a slow deep breath the demon closed his eyes and reached within himself, drawing on a power that laid dormant for two thousand years. It burned white hot and holy for a single second before coalescing into something solid and tangible.

His fingers closed around wood warm, comforting, and familiar. Before him was a staff, _his_ staff, made of juniper with twin snakes carved into the top and painted gold. He’d never needed it before, in Heaven angels didn’t get sick or injured, he’d been too frantic and out of sorts to even attempt healing anyone during the war, and now as a demon he would be looked down upon even more if they knew his true talents lie in healing and preserving life instead of making it worse.

With a glare the staff shrunk to about half its previous height and the wood turned gray and gnarled. The old blind beggar look would be ruined if he kept the staff looking all pristine and shiny.

Feeling sufficiently ready, Crawly nodded to himself and set off in the direction of Abraham’s camp.

Getting into the camp was easy. All he had to do was sit at the nearby crossroads, pretend to be a blind beggar, and wait for someone from the household to return from the market. He didn’t even have to ask, they practically bullied him into being invited in. Which was how he ended up seated around a low table at a place of honor next to Abraham himself at dinner. Crawly, of course, kept his eyes closed and relied on his other senses to get him through the evening.

The family patriarch was a quiet and contemplative sort and Crawly didn’t even need to open his eyes, he could feel the faint remains of heavens touch all through the camp and family. The rest of the household was loud and curious, and wasted no time in needling their new guest with all sorts of questions.

“Where do you come from?”

“What of your family?”

“Just left you there!?”

“Rude!”

“How could they!”

“Disrespectful!”

“Another helping?”

“Of course he want’s another helping! Look how skinny he is!”

Things went on like this for the entirety of dinner with Crawly barely able to get a word in. That was alright with him, he was more interested in gathering information than giving. The food was good, the wine ever flowing, and Crawly had never felt more welcome.

By the time Abraham instructed a servant to help their guest to bed, Crawly had learned all about the strange folks who approached the head of the family throughout the years. It was a badly kept secret that they were ‘messengers of God’ and had given Abraham’s family many promises and blessings. Blessings of health, longevity, even going so far as to claim Abraham’s wife, Sarah, would give birth at the ripe old age of ninety! Crawly would have laughed along with everyone else if he didn’t know it was well within those ‘messengers’ powers to make it happen. He did note that Abraham and Sarah didn’t laugh with the rest of their family.

It took no time at all for Crawly to be practically considered just another part of the family. They assigned a servant to help him around the camp, change his clothes, and bath him. He was given a tent of his own, as much food as he could eat, and a place of honor at every meal.

It was nice.

Too nice, if he was being entirely honest with himself. Entirely too nice for demon like him. Most everyone in the household was kind to him, and the few who weren’t were quickly silenced by the others. Though they asked many questions about his prior life, they never pried and any deflections on his part were met with a ‘mmm’ and ‘of course, dear’.

Crawly found it difficult to lie to them. He’d made it a habit to not lie in general, but these people in particular did something funny to him. He’d never experienced such open and accepting kindness before. Taking the guise of a blind old beggar had had a purpose! To make them believe he was entirely useless and dependent on them. He made the perfect target for any unkind and wicked things they might secretly harbor, but no hand was ever raised to him, no cruel word uttered with out reprimand.

So Crawly didn’t lie to them, at least he lied only so much as was absolutely necessary, but when they did finally ask for his name the morning after his first night in the camp, he was at a loss. He couldn’t tell them his demonic name. Not only was it odd enough to draw suspicion, but he knew he couldn’t be entirely unknown to the Hosts of Heaven and if someone accidentally lets slip ‘their guest Crawly’ to ‘mysterious strangers’ well, he could find himself at the wrong end of a holy smiting and that just wouldn’t do.

But he also couldn’t use his Old Name. Anytime he’d tried to speak it his throat would close up and the word would get stuck there. No, he physically couldn’t use Raphael, and wasn’t really sure he would want to even if he could, so what was a demon to do?

When he was eventually asked his name, just a day after coming to the camp, Crawly panicked. He panicked, mind racing to think of something, mentally cursing himself for not planning for this in advance, and he just spoke.

“Cr-Crowley. My name… it’s Crowley.” It wasn’t planned or thought about or mulled over. He just panicked and spoke and now it was out there and he couldn’t just take it back, that would be too weird. Yet he found he didn’t want to take it back. It was close to his old one, perhaps too close, but it felt right. And then when they repeated it back at him, “Crowley, eh? Bit odd, that, but don’t get me wrong! It suits you,” it felt even better. They were _right_ , it _did_ suit him. Like finding a missing puzzle piece or the right cord to bring a song together. It _fit_ and it was _good_ and he never felt better.

Three months into his stay and the newly named Crowley was definitely certain angels had been visiting Abraham and Sarah. This wasn’t because of the stories of impossibly beautiful strangers blessing them and telling them of ‘God’s plan’ for their family, neither was it the residual angelic energy the followed Abraham around despite the last visit being almost a year prior. No, it was the two incredibly powerful angelic auras approaching the camp. Two familiar auras.

Crowley slipped quietly away when a servant told Abraham the strangers had returned, slipping into the form of a snake as soon as he was out of sight. He followed Abraham at a distance, careful to keep to tall grasses and bushes.

Abraham met the Archangels Michael and Gabriel in a grove of oaks just out side the camp. Their pearly white robes held neither stain nor speck of dust. They stood side-by-side and watched Abraham as he approached and prostrated himself before them.

“Messengers of my Lord God. I bid you welcome to my home. Please, might I offer you food or drink?”

Gabriel wrinkled his nose in disgust, but it was Micheal who spoke. “Rise Abraham, Son of Terah, for we bring you good tidings.” Abraham obeyed the command, slowly rising to his feet, and Crowley slithered through the underbrush to Michael’s left to get a better view. “The Lord your God is pleased with you and offers you his Covenant.”

The rest of the conversation when on like that and, in Crowley’s opinion, was incredibly boring. Michael waxed poetic about God’s blessings upon Abraham's family and how his descendants would be ‘as numerous as the stars in the sky’, while Abraham offered up thanks and praise to them and God and everything in between. Crowley figured he should just slither off back to Hell to tell Beelzebub that, yes, Heaven had an invested interest in this one particular man. He still hadn’t sussed out the whys of it, something about his children becoming kings, but it should be enough information for Beelzebub to consider the job done.

He’d just started to sneak back through the grass when the conversation changed. “We go now, to Sodom and Gomorrah. The wickedness of the cities has become to great to ignore.”

Crowley turned back to the angels and human. Now _this_ was interesting news.

Abraham had risen from kneeling on the ground and looked concerned. “Sodom and Gomorrah? What… what do you plan to do?”

Gabriel gave an award winning grin, all teeth and zero actual kindness. “Why, destroy them, of course! No point in wasting Gods time on the irredeemable.”

It was no surprise to Crowley when Abraham looked between the two angels with something akin to horror. “D-destroy…? But… But the people?”

“Will die, of course.”

Abraham looked stricken, hands shaking, and Gabriel and Michael didn’t even notice. “What of the righteous?”

The confusion was clear on their faces. “Righteous?” They said at the same time.

“Yes. Would you destroy the righteous men along side the wicked ones?” Abraham took a step towards them, hands folded together almost like in prayer. “Would God still have you destroy the cities if there are just fifty righteous men?”

Gabriel and Michael looked to each other in silent communication and Crowley held his breath. The cities were massive and fifty wasn’t a huge number, but he knew how proud Hastur and Ligur were of their work. And if the cities were bad enough to catch the attention of Heaven? Finding even fifty good people might be a stretch.

His former siblings seemed to agree. Michael smiled. “Fifty? I think we can do that.”

But Abraham wasn’t finished. “Then what about forty-five?”

Gabriel didn’t even bat an eye this time. “Sure. Forty-five sounds-”

“Thirty?” Abraham countered.

Despite obviously getting annoyed, they agreed again and the back and forth continued much to Crowley’s surprise. Abraham whittled them down bit by bit until finally, Gabriel was the one to snap.

“Fine! Fine. Ten. If we can find _ten_ people. Ten righteous people. The cities will be spared, but no lower! We have important business.”

Abraham nodded quickly. “Yes. Yes, of course. I have taken up too much of your time already, My Lords. Thank you. Thank you for hearing out my request.” He bowed to them and the angels disappeared in a crack of lightning. The lone human man collapsed onto the ground as soon as they were gone with shaking hands and trembling lips.

Crowley was amazed. Never in his long life had he ever seen a human go toe-to-toe with an angel, or demon, like that before. He watched Abraham slowly regain control of his limbs and shift into a more comfortable kneeling position.

Abraham stayed in the oak grove for the rest of the afternoon and well into the evening, kneeling in the dirt and grass, and praying silently. Crowley watched over him the entire time, making sure no predators disturbed him.

The sun had well and truly set before Abraham moved again. As a demon, Crowley had to trouble at all seeing in the dark how much more relaxed and calm the man was now.

“I know you’re here.”

Crowley froze. Did he hiss or move or say something while the man prayed? He didn’t think he did, he was certain he hadn’t made a single noise.

“You don’t have to hide, Crowley. I’ve suspected you weren’t just a blind beggar for some time now.”

Well, cover blown, he figured. Crowley slithered from his hiding place in the tall grass, shifting and changing as he went. Gone were the age lines, wrinkles, and liver spots, no more silver streaking his hair, and his robes were back to the black flowing material he preferred. Abraham likely couldn’t see him very well in the dark, but he still looked in Crowley’s general direction.

“How’d you figure me out?” Crowley was actually quite curious about this. He’d thought he did a pretty good job of blending in.

Abraham smiled and chuckled. “You claimed to come from the south, but Crowley is a name the likes of which I’ve never heard before.”

The demon huffed. “Knew I should have thought that through a little more.”

The smile Abraham gave him was small and tinged with sadness. “I know it is not my place to make requests, especially to an angel like yourself-”

“I’m not-”

“But my nephew, Lot, and his family are in Sodom.”

Crowley’s protests died on his tongue as the realization set in. “Oh…. _Oh_. That’s why you were so dead set on arguing with them.”

“Yes. I know Lot is a good man, and I’m sure a few in his household are as well but...”

“You can’t know for sure if they will find ten people.”

Abraham nodded solemnly. “You have the right of it. I just want to know my nephew and his family are safe.”

Crowley scowled. Saving this righteous mans family wasn’t proper demonic work and if the bigwigs downstairs ever found out he’d certainly be in a world of trouble, but he couldn’t help but feel he owed Abraham. Logically, he knew he didn’t actually owe the old man. Abraham had just been following the rules, being hospitable to a stranger, but that didn’t make the thought of letting him down feel any less uncomfortable.

Crowley ran his hands over his face. “Alright. Fine. Sodom, you said?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As someone who grew up in the church and abandoned those teachings as an adult, I firmly believe the God of Good Omens doesn't care who you bump uglies with, so no, Sodom and Gomorrah are not being destroyed because of homosexual sex. There are real life scholars who argue that modern Christian teaching on the cities is a bit disingenuous and if you are curious about it I would honestly suggest doing the research. The research I've had to do for this fic and the coming chapters has been VERY eye opening and quite fun.
> 
> On a side note, Crowley changing his name here felt much more... genuine and symbolic than having him do it 4 thousand years into his life on earth. Seriously, in the show it's FOUR THOUSAND YEARS as 'Crawly' and only two thousand as 'Crowley'. It's ridiculous. We KNOW he hates his name, why the ever loving hell would he stick with a name he dislikes longer than he has to? HE WOULDN'T..... I also didn't want to spend however many more chapters calling him Crawly. You're welcome.
> 
> The fancy line-break is my art! Do not use without permission!
> 
> You can find me at theladydrgn on tumblr


	11. A Tale of Two Cities Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions run high in the city of Sodom and only one person is actually enjoying it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey so this fic still exists, and I'm still working on it! This chapter was just a bitch to write! I'm super proud of this one in particular and it sets the stage for the next little mini arc, so I hope y'all enjoy and that next chapter doesn't take me nearly as long!
> 
> I'm also going through and making minor edits to chapters. Nothing that changes the story, just grammar corrections and the like~

Aziraphale was not happy. He’d had a nice little thing going helping a village build and maintain an alter to The Almighty. Blessing crops, assisting with childbirth, and instructing the heads of families on matters of God had been delightful. Twenty years he spent in relative bliss and contentment, only for it all to be shot down when Gabriel showed up out of the blue with a new assignment: Go to Sodom and find ten righteous people before the week is up. Or, at least, try to. Apparently this was ‘just a formality’ and ‘if he couldn’t find anyone just leave early’.

He’d heard of Sodom and Gomorrah, of course: Wicked cities full of wicked people. The cities weren’t lawless, far from it, instead their laws and legal codes had been crafted specifically to oppose camaraderie and trustfulness among their citizens and visitors. Stealing from the poor and downtrodden, taking the life of guests, and general nastiness to any and all foreign visitors was not only encouraged, but practically legally required! It was atrocious and Aziraphale had steered clear of the area entirely.

Of course now he was expected to do a job there. Lovely. He only hoped the rumors, that powerful demons were the cause of all the wickedness, were false. Aziraphale could still remember how powerless he had been compared to Azazel and if a lower demon like Crawly could easily take them on, he shuddered at the thought of how powerful the demons in charge of Sodom and Gomorrah might be.

He would need to keep a low profile, that was sure. Suppressing his angelic nature would be at the top of the list of things to do. He didn’t plan on sticking around long, but laying low would be smart.

Aziraphale was so focused on planning and thinking that he didn’t even notice a demonic presence fast approaching. He didn’t hear the flapping of large wings or see the scattering of black feathers falling from above. He also didn’t realize a familiar voice was calling his name.

In fact, the angel might have even gotten all the way to Sodom before realizing he had company had his unacknowledged companion not attempted to grab the reigns of the donkey Aziraphale was riding.

It is a fact that the large majority of animals do not like demons, donkeys are no exception to this.

The loud terrified braying of the animal is what finally snaps Aziraphale out of his own thoughts. Unfortunately for the angel his reaction time isn’t what it use to be now that he doesn’t train often and he’s too slow to calm the animal before the donkey rears on its hind legs, throwing its rider backwards, before bolting off into the field they’d been riding alongside.

Aziraphale flies through the air for a single, startled, moment. Later he will realize he could have just used a miracle to save himself, but in the moment all he can think of is how much paperwork he’ll be forced to do to get another corporation and the reprimand sure to come for not even being able to get himself where he was suppose to be. He braces for a hard landing… that doesn’t come.

“Seems I saved your arse again, Angel.”

Thin hands around his biceps are the only things keeping him held aloft. The hands, of course, are attached to wiry arms that lead to thin shoulders covered in the blackest of robes. Just above the shoulders sits a very familiar angular face wearing a devilish smirk and framed by wavy fire-kissed hair.

“C-Crawly!?” Aziraphale gasps. He _knows_ he should not find the sudden appearance of the Serpent of Eden comforting but he does, despite himself, and a slight blush makes its way onto his cheeks.

“Weeellllll…” With a few mighty wing beats Aziraphale is lowered gently to solid ground, the demon landing nimbly in front of him and stowing his wings away. “S’not really ‘Crawly’, not anymore.”

Aziraphale furrows his brow in confusion while making a show of brushing nonexistent dust from his robes. If he doesn’t look a the very not-handsome demon, then he has no reason to feel flustered, yes? “I’m afraid I don’t quite understand.”

The demons smirk transforms into a wide, almost manic, grin. “Right. Well, I’ve changed it, you see. Well, not officially, yet. Still have to do the paperwork downstairs to make it official. But my name isn’t ‘Crawly’, anymore. Was a bit to ‘squirming at your feet-ish’ for me. Not me at all.”

“Oh… I-I see.” Aziraphale doesn’t, actually, see. This isn’t something Aziraphale is familiar with. After all, an angels name is intrinsic to who they are as a being. Gifted to them the moment The Lord breathes Her life into them. Changing it would be paramount to blasphemy. And besides, Aziraphale has always quite liked his name, even if it can be a bit unwieldy for those hearing it for the first time. “Is… is that something demons can do? Change their names?”

“Hmm...” The demon formerly known as Crawly scrunches up his nose and scratches his cheek as he thinks. “Don’t see why not. Most demons named themselves or just started going by their most obvious trait. S’not like anyone’s _making_ me go by ‘Crawly’, anyway.” He finishes with a shrug.

Well that’s… new information. Aziraphale had always assumed demons had just woken up after their Fall with their new names all ready to go, much like when being first created as angels already knowing their names and purposes. “Ah, well then, what is it? Your new name, that is.”

The demons grin was back with a vengeance and he tapped his fingers together in a flutter of nervous energy. “Weeelll…. See, it’s not too different from my old one.” As if unable to stand still any longer the demon swung his leg around, pulling himself in a tight circle before beginning a slow saunter around Aziraphale. “Soooo… yeah. It’s a just minor change in spelling and pronunciation...”

Aziraphale, uncomfortable with the idea of the demon being behind him, swiveled his head around to watch as he circled.

“But anyway, I’ve decided to change my name to,” He stepped back in front of Aziraphale, arms spread wide, fingers wiggling, and grinning like a loon. “Crowley.”

Aziraphale blinked. “Crowley...” It definitely felt less… unwieldy as ‘Crawly’ on his tongue. And it is _quite_ close to his previous name. It was nice, definitely nicer than the old one.

However, Crowley’s face fell a bit. “Don’t like it?”

The angel frantically waved his hands in front if himself. “No no no, I didn’t say that. Perfectly lovely sounding name, I think. Just take some getting use to, is all.”

The smile returns once more and Crowley rocks back on his heels. “Soooo…. What brings you here, Angel?”

All at once Aziraphale is reminded of exactly where he is and what he’s suppose to be doing. He presses his mouth into a thin line before making a careful and measured response. “I’m on an assignment. The details of which I’m not about to share with the enemy.” He’s just about a day away from a city supposedly controlled by a powerful demon and he just so happens to run into Crowley? Crowley is a field agent, not a demon lord, but he could be working for them. For all Aziraphale knows he could just take the information that a heavenly agent is on the way right back to his masters.

Crowley furrows his brow. “An assignment? This road leads straight to…” He trails off for a moment before his yellow reptilian eyes go wide. “You’re the one they sent to find ten righteous people before they destroy the cities!?”

Aziraphale freezes. Hell isn’t supposed to know whats coming. The Host had planned to catch them off guard, teach them a lesson and saving ten good people wasn’t even in the original plans. How in the world does Crowley know so much? “I- I don’t know what you’re talking about.” It’s the best he can do, not being a very good liar and he pushes past the demon, ignoring his gobsmacked look on his face.

He only takes a few steps before Crowley is rushing to his side, learning over to make sure his face is in Aziraphale's line of sight. “You’re a shit liar, Angel.”

Aziraphale sped up his pace. “I don’t know what you expect me to say, Cra-Crowley.”

The demon matched his pace and made a noise somewhere between a grunt and ‘hmm’. “You don’t have to tell me any details if you don’t want, just let me help.”

Aziraphale scoffed. “I’m an Angel of The Lord. I don’t need the help of a lowly demon to do heavens work.”

“Course you don’t. I’m just saying if I’m right, and I’m pretty sure I am, we both want the same thing.”

This stops the angel in his tracks. “What in the world are you on about?” He knows he should be suspicious, and he is, but he can’t help but remember how Crowley had saved children during the flood and saved Aziraphale himself from the wrath of another demon.

Crowley steps into view, but he isn’t looking at Aziraphale anymore. Instead, he’s staring down the road in the direction of Sodom. “You’re not going to tell me Heavens plans and that’s fine. I already know what they’re doing. I know they plan on wiping out Sodom and Gomorrah. I know Abraham _begged_ Gabriel and Michael to spare the cities if just ten righteous people were found. And I know _why_ he begged them.”

“How – who… who told you all that?”

At least Crowley had the decency to look embarrassed. “Wellll… Hell _might_ have gotten wind of Heaven paying special attention to Abraham and sent me in to… figure out what all the fuss was about. So I might’ve been around when good ol’ Gabe and Mikey showed up.”

Aziraphale stared at him, gobsmacked. “You… you were _spying_!? For Hell!?”

“Of course I was!” Crowley threw his hands into the air and swirled around to face the angel. “It was a direct order from Beelzebub. They'd skin me alive and turn me into a snake-skin cloak if I refused.”

Oh. That, well, he figured he couldn’t blame Crowley for just doing what his superiors told him to. And spying on Heavens plans was leagues better than corrupting _entire cities_. “And you didn’t… tempt Abraham into anything, did you?”

Crowley scowled at him. “’Course I didn’t.

“Right… Well I suppose if it’s just following orders… That’s alright then.”

Crowley let his arms fall to his sides. “Right. Er...”

“In any event. It doesn't matter if you know what’s going on or not. I’m on a time limit here, Crowley. I only have...” Aziraphale had to pause to count the days, “today to get to Sodom and find ten people.” He looked around, “And! You scared my donkey off!” The donkey in question was now nowhere to be seen, but the path it cut through the tall grass gave the impression that it was long gone.

“S’not my fault animals hate me.”

Aziraphale scowled at him. “Be that as it may, it’s still your fault I now have to walk the rest of the way.”

The demon groaned. “Why are you walking anyway? Just pop over or fly! We have wings for a reason, Angel!”

“This is suppose to be a discreet mission. Even if I shielded myself from mortal eyes, the demons in the city would not be so easily tricked. Going in on foot will be much more discreet.” Aziraphale hoped Crowley wold not pry to much into why he didn’t just ‘pop over’, he didn’t need the demon knowing his weakness.

Despite his complaints, Crowley continued to follow Aziraphale. They did lapse into silence, Aziraphale refusing to go into detail about anything but unwilling to try and force Crowley to leave. The demon wasn’t _doing_ anything, after all, and Crowley had saved him from an embarrassing discorporation.

Crowley, at least, seemed content to walk beside him in silence and though it took twice as long at it would have if his Donkey hadn’t been frightened off, they made it to the cities gates just as the sun was setting.

Sodom was one of the few walled cities in the region. Massive sandstone walls encircled the city and a single towering gate was the only entrance.

The gates were, surprisingly, standing open and as the duo approached a man stood from where he had been sitting and greeted them “Please, gentlemen, my name is Lot, allow me to offer my home for you to eat and rest before you continue on your way.”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary I don’t-”

Crowley stepped in front of him and cu him off. “Don’t listen to my… companion here. We’d love a meal and warm place to stay.”

Aziraphale scowls at the demon who leans in to whisper. “Just trust me, yeah?” And Aziraphale sighs and lets himself get dragged along.

“Thank you both for reconsidering. I hate to say it, but travelers are not safe here. Staying in the square would certainly have meant your doom.” Lot said as he lead them through the winding, dusty streets. He kept checking over his shoulder and peaking down streets before allowing them to continue on.

He needn’t have bothered. There was a sort of anticipation in the air. Like the entire city was waiting on something and the few people in the streets quickly ducked out of the groups way or disappeared around corners to avoid them.

Aziraphale noticed Crowley looking around too, and sniffing down each street with both his nose and his tongue. The demon was tense, jumping and flinching at shadows and common city noises.

“What are you doing?” Aziraphale asked in a harsh whisper.

Crowley practically jumped out of his skin and swung his head around to glare at Aziraphale. “There’s a demon here. I’m making sure we don’t run into him.” He growled, obviously on edge.

“You can smell him?”

“’Course I can smell him. Hard _not_ to smell Hastur.”

Lot lead them to a small sandstone house that looked indistinguishable from all the others. “Here we are then.” He said and ushered them inside before Aziraphale had the chance to ask what, exactly, Crowley meant by that.

The house was small, barely large enough to accommodate Lot, his wife Daniella, and their two daughters.

Daniella quickly greeted them both and ushered them to their table, offering honeyed bread and wine. Aziraphale watched Crowley eat just enough to placate their human hosts and drain half his cup in one long gulp before he ate anything himself.

Lot sat with them and seemed content to share in the meal, but when the plates were clean and his wife took them away to be cleaned Lot became serious. “I don’t know what business you gentlemen have here in Sodom, but I would suggest you finish it quickly and be on your way. Travelers and foreigners are not treated kindly here.

Aziraphale felt a sick twisting in his gut. “So the rumors are true, then.”

Their host nodded slowly. “Unfortunately. Now, I don’t mean to pry but-”

“We’re here on business.” Crowley said, interrupting Lot. “And not that we don’t appreciate the hospitality, but I do believe we have work to do, yeah?” Aziraphale refused to answer, but Crowley continued without him. “Look, Lot, I know your uncle, Abraham, he sent me here to warn you.”

“You know my uncle!?” Lot gasped.

“Yup. Now listen, and listen carefully. This city is-”

A knock at the door had Lot jumping to his feet and waving his hands in Crowley’s direction to quiet him. “Please,” he whispered, “stay here, out of sight, and stay quiet.”

He rushed to the door and stood in it in such a way as to block anyone from seeing in. A gruff sounding man began speaking in harsh tones the second he caught sight of Lot, but Lot quickly closed the door behind him cutting off any chance to hear what was going on.

Aziraphale leaned toward Crowley to whisper at him. “What do you think you’re doing? You can’t just tell a mortal heavens plans!”

“Of course I can!” Crowley hissed back. “I’m a demon, remember? I can tattle on heaven all I want. Practically part of the job description.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes at that.

“Besides, aren’t you suppose to be looking for ten ‘righteous’ people? There’s one, two, three, four of em right here! If we get Lot out now, we can focus on finding the other six. Maybe he even has some ideas.”

Aziraphale opened his mouth to argue – how dare a demon try and do HIS job for him – but a loud thump and the sound of raised voices stopped him and had both angel and demon jumping up from their seats.

They threw the door open to find Lot surrounded by a mob of angry people all shouting and shoving him back. Aziraphale pulled Lot by the back of his robes, pulling him back into the house. He’ planned on barricading the door with a small miracle and smuggling the man and his family out some other way, but he heard a snap and the men and women who had surrounded them suddenly went quiet and started to disperse, as if in a daze.

Lot stared, dumbfounded, at the quickly emptying alley and Aziraphale turned a glare onto the demon next to him whos fingers were still held aloft.

Crowley raised a single eyebrow. “What?”

“You know what! I’m suppose to be discreet here!” Aziraphale huffed at him.

This seemed to snap Lot out of his small daze and he fell to his knees, prostrating himself before them. “Forgive me, my lords. I did not know I was in the presence of-”

Aziraphale quickly shushed him. “No, no. Please, my dear man, stand. You were not meant to know. It is no fault of your own.” He gently pulled Lot to his feet. “Listen well, Lot son of Haran, take your wife and daughters and any others in your household and go. Flee this doomed city and do not look back.”

Lot slowly shook his head. “What? Doomed? I don’t understand.”

“God has decided to wipe Sodom and Gomorrah off the Earth along everyone inside! You’re just lucky to have an uncle brazen enough to argue with holy messengers and caring enough to beg me to make sure you got out alright.” Crowley hissed and grabbed the human around the shoulders.

Lot visibly paled and stumbled back, hand coming up to cover his mouth. “Wiped out.” He whispered.

“I’m afraid so, yes.” Aziraphale whispered back. “If there is anyone you care for, or anyone you want to warn, I can stay here till morning to protect your household. But no longer. You _must_ leave the city by daybreak. I cannot guarantee your safety any longer than that.” He weaved only a minor bit of power into his words, but Aziraphale still sat heavily as soon as Lot rushed from the house, professing his thanks as he left.

He could feel Crowley watching him as he sat and tried to ignore him. Crowley was not one to be ignored, however.

“You blessed him.”

It was neither a question nor a critique; Just a simple observation, but it made Aziraphale feel self conscious all the same. “I did.” He said. “Nothing big. Just some minor obfuscation to keep unfriendly eyes off poor Lot.” He couldn’t bring himself to look Crowley in the eye, certain the demon expected more of him. Expecting him to do more, be more, than he could feasibly be.

Crowley made a noise, somewhere between a grunt and a hmm, and sat across from Aziraphale. “Well he said he was going to get those two others. So that makes, what? Six thus far? If we can get four more we can prevent this place going up in flames in the first place.”

Aziraphale felt his heart sink and shook his head. “I’m afraid it’s not so simple as all that.” He lifted his eyes to Crowley’s face to see the confusion written across it.

“What you mean ‘not so simple’? We got Lot, his wife, their girls and-”

“Yes, yes, but only Lot actually qualifies as ‘righteous’, I’m afraid.”

“The bloody heaven you mean ‘only Lot qualifies’!?” Crowley growled. “None of ‘em are damned. I’d sense it.”

Aziraphale sighed and worried his hands in his robes, looking away from Crowley. “Well no, they aren’t. Not bad enough for Hell and just good enough for Heaven, but not good enough to be righteous. Gabriel has _very_ high standards, you see.”

“Sod Gabriel.” Crowley scoffed. “So, what, just because they aren’t perfect they deserve to die via holy smiting? Bit harsh, don’t ya think?”

“They don’t consult me on these things, you know that.” Aziraphale mumbled miserably. He didn’t like it, but he didn’t _have_ to like it. He just had to keep his head down and do what he was told and everything would work out. It had to.

\- Crowley

He’d expected it, for Aziraphale to not even attempt to fight or struggle against this bullshit scenario, but it still hurt. Cut in a way Crowley was getting use to. The only balm was that Aziraphale was letting Lot save more than just himself. Lot would save his family and anyone else that would listen, but it wouldn’t be enough. One man could not save a city on his own.

Crowley slammed the cup he’d been nursing and refilling with minor miracles onto the table, startling Aziraphale, and shoved himself to his feet. Aziraphale scrambled after him as he stomped to the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Aziraphale asked and grabbed at his sleeve.

Crowley wretched himself away. “’M not going to sit here twiddling my thumbs while Heaven prepares to blast this place into dirt. You just keep on and be a good little angel and let everyone die. I’ll go do some proper demonic work. Heaven want’s everyone here dead? Then it’s my job to make sure as many as possible live.” He snarled. At least, if Hell ever asked, that’s what he would tell them he was doing.

He stormed through he door, but Aziraphale continued to follow. “Cra-Crowley! Wait!”

“What!? Are you actually going to help me!?”

“You know I can’t!”

Crowley groaned. “Then I don’t know what you want from me, Aziraphale! Come find me if you change your mind. Otherwise, stay out of my way.”

He didn’t stop to look back at the house, to look back at Aziraphale. It hurt to much to realize his assessment in Eden had been wrong. Aziraphale wasn’t any different than the other angels. Just slightly more tolerant of a demon hanging around. He should have known during the flood, but like a fool had held out hope.

He could still smell Hastur’s lingering stench. A disgusting mix of feces and swamp water that more often than not sent all but the most stoic of humans gagging. The stench was faint, but definitely there to anyone knowing what they were looking for. And was that… salt? Brine? Odd. Any bodies of saltwater were leagues and leagues away. Some peoples threw salt around to ‘keep evil spirits at bay’. Perhaps the people here did to.

Crowley steered clear of the areas where Hastur’s smell was strongest. Running into the Duke now would be disastrous to his plans. He also felt the lingering sensation that he was being watched, followed, but he dared not open his occult senses to suss out the source of it. With heavens eyes on the city and Hastur possibly somewhere about he had to be more cautious than usual. The miracle he’d used earlier probably hadn’t been a good idea, but no taking it back now.

The city was quiet as he slunk through it. The few people who had been out had already dispersed and gone home, but crowley knew towns like this kept open markets in the square that often still had open vendors late into the night.

Voices, foot steps, running water, and the various sounds of the city grew louder as he approached the city center. A sprawling market, lit by standing torches and hanging lanterns, stretched out from massive fountain that dominated the middle of the city. There were few people and almost all of the vendors had already closed up shop and gone home, but Crowley didn’t need a large crowd, not for what he had planned.

He could, theoretically, just use a miracle to influence everyone to leave. Make them feel a distinct discomfort with the city itself. He knows he has enough hellish power to reach most, if not all, of the city if he really tried, but Hell would certainly take notice. And while he could hand-wave using magic to save a few as ‘disrupting heavens plans’, saving this many people, even corrupt ‘evil’ people, would not go over well downstairs.

Lucky for him, being on Earth as much as he was, Crowley had learned a few things about humans; namely that they spread everything. Disease, war, bad days, but also good things too: like compliments or which berries were good for eating and which would make you sick for days. But one of the things humans spread the best was gossip.

Crowley grabbed the first human he could, an older woman who was leaving with a small basket of fruit. She flinched from his grasp. “Don’t touch me!” She snapped and tried to push past.

“Just listen for a second!” Crowley held on to her sleeve. “This city is scheduled for destruction! Tell your friends and family and get out of here.” He laced his words with just the barest hint of power. A small little nudge. Barely even a blip on any potential radars, but with the right words tiny grains of influence would grow into weeds that spread as far the humans themselves.

The woman scoffed at him. “Must be mad.”

She shoved him aside and hurried away, shooting cautious looks at him over her shoulder as she disappeared around a stall.

Crowley growled. Perhaps he’d been a bit too dramatic.

The next human he approached he tried convincing them there would be a traveling troupe of performers outside of town. The human man just rolled his eyes and muttered something about foreigners. The third human attempted to pull a knife on him. The fourth had ignored him entirely.

Crowley went through over a dozen humans before finally sagging tiredly against a nearby pillar. He didn’t understand it. He’d never had this much trouble convincing anyone to do anything, not when he actually tried to.

He ran his hands over his face and tried to figure out what in the world was happening here. He scented the air again, but nothing distinctly heavenly came through. Just the faint smell of Hastur and the lingering smell of the sea. The salt was still mildly puzzling, there were salted meats for sale here in the market, but it smelled stronger than that and not quite right. He wondered if it was connected to the humans resisting him, but that made no sense what so ever. He should be smelling ozone and heaven, not the bloody ocean.

He still felt watched. The prickling, tickling, sensation on the back of his neck. A pair, or more, of eyes watching him that he could not see.

Casting his eyes cautiously around the mostly empty market yielded no one paying him any mind but the sensation did not abate. Crowley scowled at no one in particular. He didn’t have time for this, the humans didn’t have time for this. The minutes were counting down and he’d already wasted too much time faffing about.

He has to draw out his mysterious stalker and deal with them. Quickly.

Crowley shoved off the pillar and stalked out of the market square, forming a fast plan in his mind as he passed stall after stall.

The streets were dark and practically deserted outside of the market. In small villages people staying indoors after nightfall is fairly common, but in a big city like this it’s almost unheard of. The quiet stillness sets his teeth on edge. He’s still being watched, followed.

Crowley descends a short flight of stairs into a lower, poorer, portion of the city where the streets are more narrow and twist and turn in maze-like pathways. He skirts around sharp corners and down narrow alleys, but his pursuer – and that’s definitely whats happening, he’s being followed, pursued, chased – is able to keep up and matches every movement.

It’s a viscerally upsetting realization that he is being hunted. Crowley isn’t use to being on this end of it. Use to being the hunter, not the hunted. He is a snake, The Serpent of Eden, Tempter of Original Sin, and demon of Hell. He shouldn’t even _be_ on this end of it and the spike of adrenaline, the rapid beating of his unneeded heart, and how every little noise and movement sets it all spiraling is dizzying.

And the scent of salt is almost overwhelming.

Crowley glances over his shoulder as discreetly as he can every chance he gets and tries to maintain an air of unknowing ignorance at his predicament. Eventually his stalker will make a mistake, reveal themselves, Crowley just has to be patient and keep moving.

He wants to be the snake. It would be easier to slip away and hide like that, it’s what that form was made for, to hide and stalk and slither, but it also makes him more vulnerable. Changing forms takes time and concentration, time and concentration he might not have. No, better to stay human and at least have a chance at fighting back if it should come to that.

He hopes it doesn’t.

A few more twists and turns and Crowley ducks down a nearby alley that’s dark and somewhat concealed, crouching down behind some large pots. He watches the thoroughfare intensely and tries to slow the frantic beating of his heart. The blood rushing through his very human veins is loud and he’s certain the humans could hear it through their sandstone walls. He dares not even breathe.

A moment passes.

Then another.

Crowley allows his tensed muscles to begin to relax and lets out a soft breath.

Pat. Pat. Pat.

He freezes at the sound of sandaled feet on the dirt streets.

The smell of salt is so overpowering that he’s almost choking on it.

A figure walks into view of Crowley’s hiding place and stops directly in front of it. They would almost pass for an older balding human were their robes not pristinely white.

Crowley moves not a muscle despite whoever they are staring directly at his hiding spot.

A wide grin spreads across their face and something shiny on their front teeth gleams in the moonlight. “Found you.”

Crowley only has a split second to roll out of the way before the spot where he was crouched is hit with a blast of light. It’s bright and hot enough that he’s sure his face and arms and legs will be red and blistering like a human sunburn. The sharp smell of ozone mixes and combines with the scent of salt.

He has to blink the spots from his eyes, but he can still hear his attacker approaching quickly. Salt and ozone mingle and Crowley curses his luck for running into a smite-happy angel as he scrambles to his feet.

He barely has time too get upright before a solid mass slams into his back sending him sprawling into the dirt on all fours.

“Oh? Trying to run and hide again? It’s futile, you know.”

Crowley forgoes trying to get to his feet and focuses on putting as much distance between him and the unfamiliar angel as he can. “Who the fuck are you?” He hisses.

“Who I am is of little consequence. What matters is my mission.” Holy lightning arcs between their fingers, but the angel makes no move to get closer to Crowley. “Luckily for me, my mission is almost complete, so I have time for… a little bit of fun.”

Crowley rolls again as the angel clenches a fist and another bolt of white-hot holy energy hits.

This time he isn’t fast enough.

Crowley screams and resists the urge to curl towards the now gaping wound in his side. The flesh chard and smoking and the pain reminiscent of a million light year fall. The angel holds his ground and watches, gleefully, as the demon before him gasps and shudders in the dirt.

Crowley doesn’t need to use his occult senses to know he’s outmatched here. To know that taking a smiting like that full on might not just destroy his corporation, but obliterate him outright.

“You know, I expected more from you, demon. Hiding from me in this city for days. The very foundational stones are soaked in your evil stench. I might not have ever found you if you’d kept your head down. Though I suppose demons aren’t known for the virtue of patience.”

Crowley takes the time his enemy is giving him to gloat to survey the area, maybe find a way out of this mess. The alley only has one entrance, blocked by an angel. He’s backed up enough to almost have his back to the far wall that has a small crack and gap at the bottom. There are a few pots of who knows what, and above the pots is a short roof overhang with… more pots! Used for water collecting by the look of them.

He forces himself to ignore the throbbing burning of his side and flexes one of his fingers hidden under the folds of his robe, causing the pots above the angels head move minutely, the angel in question is none the wiser. Perfect.

Now he just has to keep them talking. “Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about. I just got here.” Another flick of his finger and the pots move again.

The angel scoffs. “I know all demons are liars, but do you really expect me to believe that? I’ve been tracking you through this wicked city for days. And now I have you exactly where I want you.”

Crowley scowls. The only demon he’s smelled since arriving is Hastur, and being mistaken for that overgrown toad makes his skin crawl. He smells much better than that! “And where, exactly, is that?”

The angel grins wide and manic as the pots above him move just a smidge closer to the edge. One more push and they should topple over. “At my mercy, of course!”

Two things happen simultaneously. The pots that were balanced precariously on the very edge of the roof get that final nudge and Crowley uses every ounce of demonic power at his disposal to do a quick and messy transformation.

The pots smash and break atop the angels head, water raining down and obscuring their vision just long enough for Crowley to rearrange his molecules to resemble something snake-like.

He’s not quite a snake, not yet, but hes long and thin and can just fit in the gap under the wall. Crowley has to bite back another scream as holy energy slams into the very tail end of him. The crack in the stonework goes deeper than he expected, but it’s either that or face the wrath of an angel and he knows which he prefers.

Crowley follows the crack in the stonework deep into the foundational stones of Sodom and rests. There is still a few hours till sunrise and he has wounds to heal before he can go back to the surface and try again.

\- Aziraphale

He shouldn’t be worried, he _shouldn't_ , Crowley is a demon and perfectly capable of taking care of himself, but Aziraphale couldn’t help but wonder where he’d gone off to.

Lot had returned not long after Crowley stormed off. He’d been unable to convince his son-in-laws to flee with them and Aziraphale spent a large portion of the night soothing the household. Lot had, of course, wondered where his ‘companion’ had gone and Aziraphale had danced around his questions.

By first mornings light Lot and his family had packed up what little belongings they can take with them.

“Do you know where you will go?” Aziraphale asks.

Lot nods once and looks over his family. “Yes. We will travel to my uncle so that he knows we are safe. Will you not be joining us?”

Aziraphale shook his head. “No I...” He shouldn’t. He should just leave, forget about it. It’s just one demon. “I need to make sure my… that Crowley knows it’s time to leave.”

They part ways outside of the little house, Lot has plenty of time to get far enough away from the city, but Aziraphale has no idea how long he really has to find one demon in a cirt this size.

He starts by working methodically. Going street by street and searching for Crowley’s tell-tale demonic signature. Unfortunately even after an hour of searching the only demonic trace he can pick up is unfamiliar, likely the demon Crowley was talking about the night before, it’s faint but seeped into the very foundational stones of the city.

There is also something else. It’s an angelic presence, but one that’s off. Like a song being sung with just one voice slightly out of key.

“No…. Nononono.” He gasps and runs, following the trail. His mind is a whirlwind of: ‘It can’t be! I didn’t know, I didn’t realize! Please let me be wrong’.

His feet carry him swiftly through the empty streets, the citizens all have their doors tightly shut waiting for something though they know not what. Aziraphale pays this no mind, he has to find Crowley before, before -

The bricked streets give way to mostly dirt and rock, and wide open pathways became thin twisting alleys as Aziraphale rush as fast as he could, hoping beyond hope he finds Crowley before the other angel does.

Aziraphale is dashing past a darkened alcove when he’s grabbed roughly by the arm and pulled into it. A hand covers his mouth and he’s shoved against the nearest wall.

“Don’t speak. Don’t move. Don’t even _think_.” The words are hissed into his ear and Aziraphale relaxes and lets out a sigh of relief because even before his attacker pulls back far enough for him to see them, he knows it’s Crowley.

Crowley doesn’t look at him though, his yellow serpentine eyes are busy watching and constantly moving, but he stays pressed close. Not that there is much room to move in this narrow gap between two buildings.

Aziraphale can feel Crowley’s sharp angles pressed into him and has to mentally scold himself for wanting to reach out. To touch and reassure himself that he is okay. “Crowley?” He tries to say against his hand, but it comes out sounding more like “Crofee?” He’s just too relieved Crowley is _here_ and _in one piece_ , he forgets momentarily that he’d been told to be quiet.

The hand moves from his mouth to his shoulder. “What the bloody fuck do you think you’re doing running round like that, Angel?” Crowley whispers harshly at him.

“Looking for you!” he whispers back, just as harshly. “Listen, there’s an angel here-”

“Oh I know all ‘bout that! Would’a liked a heads up!”

Aziraphale gasped. “Are you all right?”

“Nothing that couldn’t be fixed. Obviously. Why didn’t you tell me there was a smite-happy angel assigned to the area!?”

He shook his head. “Crowley you need to leave. You aren’t safe here.”

Crowley scoffed. “Not safe? Not sssafe!?”

“Yes it’s-”

“THE HUMANS ARE THE ONES WHO AREN’T SAFE!” Crowley screamed, shaking Aziraphale. “No-” Crowley gasped, his chest heaving. “No you don’t care, do you?”

Aziraphale grabbed at Crowley’s upper arms. “That’s not true! There’s just nothing we can do!”

Crowley wretched himself away. “Nothing!? Nothing we can do!?” He was seething now, yellow eyes blazing. “I refuse to believe that.”

“Crowley wait!” But the demon had already flung himself away and marched right out of their hiding place.

Aziraphale felt his heart clench at Crowley’s retreating back. It was Lot’s place all over again. Crowley was mad and leaving but this time, if he let Crowley get away, might be the last time.

So Aziraphale chases after him. “Wait, please!”

Crowley ignored him and slammed his fist into the nearest door repeatedly until it opened. “What do you want this early in-”

“You’re all going to _die_ if you don’t leave right-!”

Aziraphale rushed to get between Crowley and the unsuspecting human. “Crowley stop it! It’s useless!”

“I told you to stay out of my way if you weren’t going to help!” Crowley snarled.

He vaguely registered the sound of the door shutting behind him. “There is nothing to help! I told you it’s useless!”

“I’ll show you useless!”

Aziraphale tried to grab a hold of him again, but Crowley was whip quick and across the street banging on another door trying to convince the occupants to leave. It would be futile, of course. No one would leave because a miracle was keeping them complacent. A particularly powerful miracle at that. He didn’t need to talk to the other angel to know the miracle was there, it was their typical method.

He trailed behind the frantic demon, unwilling to get between him and his goal for fear of incurring Crowley’s actual wrath.

He’d just followed him around a corner when the air about them shifted. Aziraphale felt it acutely across his skin. Instinctively looking up, searching for the source of the change.

A second sun, directly overhead, had appeared in the sky. The clouds, few as they are, were parted in a perfect circle around it. Aziraphale stared at it in confusion for a moment. The normal sun, the regular sun, soft and warm was still just peaking over the cities high walls.

It only took a few seconds of Aziraphale’s staring for him to realize the new bright object in the sky was getting bigger, closer.

Cold lead dropped into his belly at the realization. It was happening. They were out of time.

Aziraphale looked around wildly for Crowley, but he must have continued on while Aziraphale had been distracted.

He cursed the ill timing and rushed down the street in the direction Crowley had already been traveling. The celestial energy and heat was already picking up and Aziraphale stole a quick glance into the sky as he rounded the far corner. It was getting closer. Fast.

The sight of Crowley trying to manhandle a human family from their homes just a few meters away flooded Aziraphale with some slight relief, but he had no time to examine why he wanted Crowley safe so badly, or why the thought of the demons utter annihilation was something to painful to even think about directly. He had to get them out of here. Under any means necessary.

Aziraphale dash to Crowley, who seemed completely oblivious to the very real danger careening towards them at increasing speeds. “Crowley, it’s to late! We need to leave! NOW!”

Crowley just snarled over his shoulder while the humans screamed, struggling against his supernaturally strong grasp.

The heat was almost unbearable now. Absolutely sweltering and the light from it was bright enough that Aziraphale was having to squint.

“Crowley just listen-”

“NO! WE STILL HAVE TIME! JUST A FEW MORE SECONDS! I CAN SAVE THEM!” Crowley screamed, flinging himself away from the resisting humans and towards another door.

They didn’t have ‘a few more seconds’. Aziraphale could see Crowley’s skin blistering and bubbling, burning away under the holy onslaught.

He knew he would regret this, but he couldn’t allow Crowley to die. Not here, not like this.

Aziraphale ran after him, tackling the almost feral demon. One arm went around his waist, the other around his chest, effectively pinning Crowley’s arms.

“THE FUCK!?” Crowley snarled, thrashing and flexing against Aziraphale's hold.

“Please forgive me.” Aziraphale said quietly before reaching for the angelic power the lurked just below the surface of his being.

Most of it, of course, was locked away. Made almost inaccessible when Gabriel had ‘demoted’ him. He could still call upon it, technically, but doing so for more than minor miracles caused a sharp aching pain that, when bad enough, could incapacitate Aziraphale entirely.

He didn’t have the luxury to worry about paltry things like limits and pain right now, however. Aziraphale felt the telltale twisting, pulling, sensation that started out as uncomfortable when he tried to call upon too much of his power.

He kept calling.

Teleportation just himself, even short distances, would send him to his knees in agony. Teleporting himself plus a resistant demon would likely be testing the limits of how much pain his corporation could take. Teleporting the both of them far enough away as to keep Crowley from assured destruction? Well… It would have to be worth it.

It only took a fraction of a second for Aziraphale to call upon his power, visualize what he wanted, then assert that imagined reality onto their world.

His ears popped first as reality shifted to accommodate his demand and Aziraphale had a single moment to enjoy the lack of heat and brightness before searing burning fire erupted in his veins.

He screamed, he was certain of it, but the roaring in his ears was to loud to hear it. Everything was loud and burning and freezing and pain. Aziraphale vaguely registered something scratchy against his cheek before his world was consumed by soft, quiet, darkness.

.

.

.

A motley of blue and green and brown filled Aziraphale vision. The brown and green swaying and moving every time a cool breeze brushed his skin.

Aziraphale blinked once, twice.

It was a tree. It’s green leaves and brown limbs breaking up the blue of the sky. A bird chirped somewhere nearby.

As his senses returned Aziraphale realized he was laying on his back looking up at an olive tree. He frowned. This wasn’t what he’d expected to see.

A quiet shuffling drew his attention to his left.

Crowley was sat hunched under the tree as well. Partially obscured by its trunk and facing away from him.

Aziraphale breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of the demon, even if said demon’s shoulders were hunched in such a way that if his wings were in this dimension they would be cocooned around him defensively. Telling everyone who knew the body language to leave, back off, go away.

He sat up slowly, cautiously. Every muscle screaming at him to stop and rest, but Aziraphale payed it no mind. Wincing with every small movement until he was at least somewhat upright.

Crowley hadn’t acknowledged him, though Aziraphale could see the muscles beneath his robes tensing every time Aziraphale moved.

“Crowley I-”

“Sssshut it.” Crowley said. Even with the serpentine hiss he sounded so tired.

Crowley was refusing to look at him. Staring instead out into the distance. Aziraphale followed his gaze and the sight made him sick.

They were on a hill a few leagues outside of Sodom, or what use to be Sodom. A great flat expanse with nothing but vague shapes of white was left. The valley the city had been situated in felt so empty now.

“Gone.”

Aziraphale startled. “I-I’m sorry?”

“Gone! S’ all gone! Nothin’ but salt now.” Crowley wasn’t crying, at least not that Aziraphale could see from his place behind him, but his voice was heavy and thick.

“Y-yes. That seems to be Sandalphon’s… thing.”

A feral growl erupted from Crowley’s lips as he rounded on Aziraphale. “Ssssssandalppphhon!? Who the bloody fffuck isss Sssssandalphon!? Isss that the angel who did thissss!?” Crowley snarled and launched himself at Aziraphale faster than the angel could track. Scales rippling out along his neck and jaw, canine teeth lengthening into sharp points, he grabbed Aziraphale roughly by the shoulders.

Aziraphale gasped and winced, his corporation still hyper sensitive. “Crowley please!” Aziraphale whimpered.

Crowley retreated as quick as he had approached, releasing Aziraphale with a hiss. “Of courssse you don’t fffucking care.” Crowley launched himself to his feet and stalked away to the edge of the hill. “Ssshould have known you wouldn’t care.”

The words like a dagger to his heart. “Of course I care, Crowley!”

Crowley scoffed.

“I do!” Aziraphale said. “But I can’t-”

“Go against the Great Bollocksing Plan!?” Crowley sneered.

“I don’t know what you expected me to _do,_ Crowley.”

“Help me!” Crowley turned back towards him, arms outstretched. “Help me! All I wanted was to help them! Isn’t that what you are suppose to _do_!? _Angel_!? Love the humans? Protect them? All that rubbish!?”

“Yes! It is! And you’re Fallen so I don’t understand why _you_ care so much!” Aziraphale finally snapped. One could only take so much and today had been quite enough already

Crowley slowly lowered his arms, nodding. “Yeah. Yeah I did.” His voice was soft, but his eyes were molten fury. “”S alright. Doesn’t matter now, does it? Not like my caring did anything.”

Aziraphale realized in that moment he’s said the wrong thing. Had lashed out in pain and frustration. He struggled to his feet, muscles protesting being used so soon, even as Crowley turned away and brought out his raven black wings.

“Crowley I-”

The look Crowley shot him from over his shoulder made Aziraphale’s words die on his tongue.

“I thought you were different than the rest of them, Aziraphale. I was wrong, and that’s fine, but I’ve learned my lesson. Don’t come looking for me. This is you’re only warning: Next time we run into each other, I’ll be your enemy.” Crowley said with barely an inflecting to his voice.

One strong beat of his wings and Crowley was in the sky, leaving fast.

Aziraphale slumped to his knees, legs giving out. A hollow void opening in his chest as he watched Crowley disappear over the horizon. He really was, truly, alone now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, er, that was a thing. *hands out tissues* I'm not apologizing.

**Author's Note:**

> I will try to update once a week, but I'm not very good at sticking to a schedule. Chapter 2 is almost done though.
> 
> I'm messing with Angelology a little bit here. In Judaism Samael is given the title 'Satan', so that's what I'm going with. He will be known as Lucifer/Satan/Devil after the Fall. Also, I KNOW Archangels are technically just above regular angels in the hierarchy, but as most people do, I'm ignoring reality and supplementing my own. All the Archangels are going to technically be Seraphim, just with the title of Archangel that puts them above everyone else. And yes Aziraphale starts off as a Cherub, since it was the Cherubim that guarded Eden, don't worry, he gets demoted to Principality after the flaming sword incident.
> 
> Also: almost no one can actually agree on who all 'the seven Archangels' are, with only Gabriel, Michael, and Raphael being at all consistent across religions and various texts, so i'm pretty much going to be pulling the others names from other places and calling it good. it's subject to change, but as of right now the Archangels are: Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, Uriel, Raguel, Phanuel, and Samael. I doubt all of them are going to be relevant, but I do like to be prepared for anything.
> 
> *The fancy line-break seen though out the fic is my own creation! Do not use with out permission!*


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